


Find Me In The Dark

by Rising_Phoenix



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Established Relationship, Estranged Relationship, Gay Sex, Grief, Hannibal is Not a Cannibal, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Infidelity, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Surgeon Hannibal, Teacher Will, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, hannigram is endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 40,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26585902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rising_Phoenix/pseuds/Rising_Phoenix
Summary: [REPOST]After a fateful accident, the marriage of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter has reached its end. Grief and the inability to stop them from falling apart has brought an irreconcilable distance between the formerly deeply devoted couple. While Hannibal is apathetic towards his husband, ignores him, and is withdrawn, Will has started an affair with fellow teacher Francis and drowns his desperation in more and more alcohol.Both men are not ready to give up the memory of the happiness they once had together and are still not able to reach out for each other when they need it the most - but then a trip to visit family changes everything...Warning:Will has at the beginning of the story a relationship (and sex) with Francis. Hannigram though is endgame.Note:The haters did not win. I deleted this story after the backlash I was facing for daring to have Will have an affair, let alone with Francis. But here it is again. And it's here to stay.DEDICATED TO MY FANNIBAL FAMILY 🌈🍖
Relationships: Francis Dolarhyde/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 82
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

The bedroom was filled with the sound of the flesh of two bodies meeting each other, of wet kisses, and the moans of two men in the throes of passion.

Will’s right hand went up the side of the toned body underneath him, making his partner shiver and moan into his ear, biting his earlobe, long legs holding Will’s hip not only in place but also trying to push him deeper inside his willing and writhing body.

The heat and tightness of the sheath he was thrusting his cock into drove him crazy, the resistance of the muscle long gone and the other body readily accepting him, welcoming him. He felt the pulse of the other man, felt how he was wanted and desired, strong hands on his back and shoulders holding him, trembling fingers roaming over his skin, leaving goosebumps and shudders or arousal behind.

Will’s long lashes fluttered, unable to keep his eyes open, overwhelmed by the desire between them, a frown between his brows. He tried to hold back, tried to not let go already, and to enjoy this feeling of belonging somewhere a while longer.

Francis spread his long legs wider, welcomed the deep penetration by his lover, moaning like a bitch in heat, and allowed himself to be not the reserved and shy man that he was when he was among people he did not know well. He angled one of his legs up, bent almost in half and Will got the hint and hooked his arm underneath his leg to hold him open wider. He looked down at Francis’ face, saw how the taller man had squeezed his eyes shut and his neck arched back, having probably forgotten where he was and lost track of space and time, submitting to the shared passion between them.

Will’s movements sped up, his thrusts starting to get erratic, losing control. One of Francis’ hands went up to grab Will’s messy curls, drawing him down into a heated kiss, the other hand on Will’s upper arm. The thrusts into the tight heat of Francis’ body became more intense, making him moan louder with every rare push of Will’s cock against his prostate, with every stretch that made him shudder and tremble.

Will felt Francis’ hands on his ass cheeks, supporting his attempt to push him farther inside him, and then Francis gave it an encouraging slap, which made Will frown for a moment, but he was too far gone. The moans of his lover got even louder and Will shut him up with another kiss, while his thrusts slowed down but did not lose intensity.

“So good,” Francis whispered after their lips had separated into his ear, and Will only let out a little moan.

A hand wandered down Will’s back, a finger slipping into his crack and touching his hole, but before Francis could go and further, he had thrust hard into him, making Francis forget his aim and scream in lust.

Only few intense thrusts later, Will came, filling the condom that was separating their skin of their most intimate part of their bodies, with his seed. He gasped and panted at Francis’ neck, and had to catch his breath for a moment before his right hand went between them and he jerked Francis’ still hard cock until completely, remaining himself inside the other man until he was spent and then pulled out.

He pulled the condom off and tied it up, throwing it into the waste bin that stood close to Francis’ bed and reached for the wet wipes that he stored in the nightstand. When they had started their relationship, Will had made fun that Francis was prepared like this, but after seeing that Francis had reacted with shame, he had reassured him that is was actually quite considerate.

Francis took the wipe from him and cleaned his belly, throwing the wipe carelessly onto the floor, while Will plopped down onto the bed next to him, still trying to ease his breathing, while Francis scooted a little up in bed, putting his head higher onto the pillow.

Will stared at the ceiling, one hand on his belly.

He was still feeling the aftermath of arousal in his body, still felt the flutter in his stomach and the pulsing of his blood in his groin. But another feeling mixed into those feelings, something he could not put into words. He felt that Francis was looking at him, but did not turn over, nor did he touch the other man in any way.

“Have you talked to him?” Francis asked then into the room that was getting darker now in the early evening hours.

Will closed his eyes and shook his head.

“No,” he replied, not giving more explanation.

Francis sighed.

“Are you planning to?”

Will took a deep breath and sat up.

“I am,” he said. “I tried. It’s not that easy.”

He was being watched while he got dressed and then sat back down to put his shoes on. Francis touched his back, and Will turned to look at the handsome man.

“You need to talk to him,” Francis said, the voice silent and worry in his eyes.

“I know,” Will replied while leaning down to kiss Francis. “I see you tomorrow at school.”

Francis nodded and watched how Will took his wedding band from the nightstand and put it on.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The drive from Francis’ house to the place he still called home took usually half an hour, but this evening an accident happened and Will was forced to take a detour that took him over more remote roads until he would be lead back into Baltimore from the other side of town. He was already annoyed by the fact that the half-hour drive had already turned into more than an hour and he was far from being back home yet.

It had gone dark and the headache he had nourished the whole day had gotten worse. If it continued to be this bad, he would be forced to stop and take a rest before he could continue his way, and he knew that his body craved something he would not allow himself to give him until he was behind closed doors and off the street.

Thank God the road was empty so that he could go rather slowly instead of adapting to the traffic and being forced to go faster than he felt comfortable at. His thoughts were running crazy, but they had done so the whole day, if not the whole week. They were getting close to the midterms and he had still to do a lot of work to prepare the tests he would have to put his students through, but since his concentration was a mess, he feared that he would have to recycle some of his older work and hope that nobody noticed.

His thoughts spinning about tomorrow’s school day and the schedule that awaited him, he only put his foot hard onto the brake the last second when a lighter body ran over the road from one side to the other. The car broke out of the lane for a second, but Will’s reactions still worked well enough despite the late hour and his tiredness that he could stop at the side of the road before something happened.

He panted, feeling sweat on his forehead and his knuckles turned white where he gripped the steering wheel, not able to move, not willing to look up. It felt like minutes before he raised his head, blinking and trying to remember if he hit something if there was another car, anything, but none of those things happened. The triggered panic only slowly ebbed away and he narrowed his eyes when he saw again something on the road in front of him.

A dog.

It was only a fucking dog standing in front of his car, looking right at him.

Will blinked and then pressed his Volvo’s horn. The dog’s ears twitched, but it did not move away.

“What the fuck?” Will whispered to himself and then followed his instinct and opened the door and left his car, while the motor was still running, but not before turning the emergency flashers on in case that someone was nearing him, them, from behind and could crash into the unsecured car.

He looked at the dog, who now made a few steps back, the tail between its legs and the eyes wide with insecurity.

“Hey there,” Will said, one hand stretched out, but now the dog ran away, dashing into the woods next to the road out of his sight.

He sighed, accepting that the dog probably had a home though it looked like being in not a good state and that it did not want contact with him and returned to his car, driving away. But then he stopped again, turned again the flashers on, and opened the trunk, where he sat down and waited, pulling his untouched sandwich from his bag.

A few minutes later, the dog showed up again, tilting his head to the side, and then inched slowly closer to the silent stranger, the ears alert and the tail wagging. Will smiled. The dog was really pretty, either a labrador or a mix of something that looked similar, with maybe golden fur under the mud and dirt that covered it. The eyes were curious and smart, and the expression almost looked like it was smiling a little at him.

“Hey,” Will said again and then offered the ham from his sandwich from an outstretched arm.

The dog sniffed and then took the piece of ham hesitantly, ate it and Will took another piece from his second sandwich and offered that too.

“You got no home?” He asked the dog that now sat down in front of him and actually replied with a short bark.

Will chuckled and stood up, clapping with one hand onto the bed of the trunk and the dog only blinked once at him and then jumped inside. Will raised his brows in surprise.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It took two more hours until Will and his furry companion arrived home. He had checked on his way into a 24-hour vet clinic where he had the dog reported in case the owners were searching for it and left his phone number just in case. The dog, a boy, seemed healthy and the vet had offered to take him into a shelter, but Will was aware that he would be killed there when nobody came looking for him, and so he decided to take him home at least until either the owners showed up or until he had found a home for him on his own.

He was aware that pets in the house were not wanted, but he had stopped caring a while ago when he realized that nobody continued to care for himself.

He unlocked the door and led the dog inside.

The hallway was dark, but there was a light turned on in the office on the left side of the hallway.

So, he was still awake and was still working on something.

There had been days when he would have went to the office, checked on the other and they would have had a late dinner together before retreating to their bedroom. But he could hardly remember when that had happened the last time.

He was no longer sad. He was no longer angry with disappointed. He only felt numb and lonely, so lonely.

But like every evening when he came home, the times he returned getting later and later until he knew one day he would not come home at all, he hesitated, listening into the silence, waiting for the accented voice to call his name, to ask how his day had been. Waited for the handsome man he knew was behind that door to welcome him in the place that once had been a home and now was nothing but a too-big house for two men who did not share a life anymore.

Hannibal had long ago stopped living with him even if the same roof covered them, and he knew the exact date, knew that the sky had been a clear blue that day, that Hannibal had kissed him with a grin when they had said their goodbyes in the morning before they both went to work, and that they had planned to go to the theater the next evening.

A theater visit that never happened, just like their lives had stopped that day.

When nothing happened, like it never did anymore, Will tsk’ed at the dog and went upstairs, where he did not go to the lush bedroom with the dark walls and the while and teal accent, to that room where he had once found unspeakable happiness. Instead, he went to the other side of the house, where the guest room was situated.

The dog went with him into the room, also teals and browns dominant, but nothing personal. No photographs, no trinkets, and memories of a life that stopped years ago.

Will sat down at the edge of the bed, slipping out of the shoes, and turned to the nightstand where a bottle and a glass were always waiting for his return, more welcoming than the man downstairs was.

Pouring himself a glass of bourbon, his hand went into the dog’s fur who had taken a place next to him on the bed, putting his head on Will’s thigh, offering him the company that he had forgotten existed in this world.

He drank until his senses were numb from the memories that tortured him every day, every night and he finally fell into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

After having woken up with his usual constant headache and a quick, hot shower that did not take any of his exhaustion and pain away, Will had gotten dressed and then he had remembered that he was not alone. The dog was sleeping still soundly on the other side of the bed, not making any attempt of getting up himself.

“Shit,” Will whispered to himself and then stroked the soft fur of the dog, who woke up and jumped off the bed with a wagging tail, running around the bed to get some love from his new human buddy.

Hannibal would not be happy about a dog in the house, but a look out of the window showed Will that his husband had already left for work, his Bentley not in the driveway where it had stood last night when he had gotten home. He would have to deal with telling Hannibal about their house guest tonight if they met.

His breakfast consisted of a black coffee like it had been for months now. Gone were the wonderful days when he and Hannibal had gotten up earlier than they had to, and had prepared and eaten a generous breakfast together, talked about their plans for the day and the evening, had laughed and held eye contact that often said more than words. The thought that he had not sat on one of the stools around the kitchen island for months hurt Will, it was unbearable physical pain and he could not get out of the room fast enough while the dog was chasing a bird in the backyard, the memory of those happy days nothing but torture.

After short consideration, he made a call to Alana and asked if Margot could watch the dog for the day after explaining the situation, and in the background, he heard the women’s son Sammy cheer at the news that he and Applesauce would have an additional companion for the day, and then he had gotten on the way to the Bloom’s house and introduced the dog to them, who immediately made friends with the other dog and the little boy.

Realizing that he was already late for work after seeing that Alana was not home anymore when he arrived and he rushed to make his way to school as well and arrived there with only minutes until his first class started. He ran down the hallways and crashed into his classroom just in time, causing the teenage girls that were more interested in the number of their Instagram followers than history to look up from their phones while he threw his leather bag onto the desk and look into the surprised faces of his students.

The lesson on American history, dealing with the civil war, was well prepared and some of the girls were actually paying attention to what he had to say and participated in the discussion about the impact that segregation had until more recent history. He made notes while the teenagers went into a heated discussion, not because of their political opinions which he would not grade even if he did not agree with some of the things they seemed to think. Instead, he made notes about how prepared they were, who had read the material he had given them, and who had the ability to debate. It was Abigail Hobbs who surprised him the most of his students. He knew that she was among the smartest students he had in his classes, but she was usually shy and did rarely speak up.

Now though, she was taking part in the discussion with passion and well prepared, with an impressive knowledge of 19th-century history.

“You can’t honestly think that there is no racism in the States today,” Abigail said, the face an annoyed mask of anger. “That’s such a stupid thing to say.”

“Equality is part of our constitution,” Cassie snapped back. “It’s stupid to think that Americans would do something unconstitutional.”

“Oh my God, Cassie, just check the recent news!”

Marissa crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Fake news.”

Abigail stared at the other girl, while Will raised a brow, getting internally ready to intervene if the discussion between the two girls would get ugly, but the bell saved them all.

“Read up on the Anaconda Plan until Friday,” Will said loud while the girls packed their bags. “And no, that has nothing to do with Nicki Minaj.” He watched the girls shuffle outside, while he packed his own bag, getting ready to leave for his next class. “Miss Hobbs? A word please?”

Abigal stopped in her tracks and looked, the cheeks of his pale face a little flushed, at her teacher.

“Yes, Mister Graham?” She asked, coming closer.

“I was very pleased with your input today, I made a few notes about some of the points you have brought up and will try to remember to bring some of it up next lesson again,” he said with a kind smile at her frown. “Thumbs up.”

She nodded a smile appearing, but still looking a little hesitant.

“I really wish you would take part in class more, I get that you don’t like to talk in public like that, but you’re one of the best students I have, and your grades would go up at least one grade if you’d participate more. Is there anything I can do to help you with that?”

Abigail shook her head.

“No, Mister Graham,” she said. “I guess I’m just shy.”

“I get that,” he said and leaned a little closer. “Don’t tell anyone but I actually hate being on center stage.”

Her eyes widened.

“But…you’re a teacher.”

“I am, and that’s the only reason I like doing this,” he winked. “And now, you better run to make it to your next class. If you’re late, tell the teacher that I had a word with you. Do you have social studies with Mrs. Bloom?”

She nodded.

“Tell her that I held you up, she’ll understand.”

“Thank you, Mister Graham. Also for your encouragement.”

Will smiled and watched her leave.

His headache had returned and next to the two tic tacs he put into his mouth he swallowed two ibuprofen as well, hoping that the hammering pain would go away soon.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It did not.

Instead, he had taken two more pills until the lunch break finally arrived, during which he was scheduled to supervise the cafeteria, thankfully in the company of Alana who soon after the start of the break joined him at one of the tables at the side of the hall.

“You look terrible,” his friend said as soon as she had sat down. “When was the last time you got a good night’s sleep, Will?”

He adjusted his glasses and then decided to take them off instead, putting them into his bag, and shrugged.

“Sleep is overrated.”

“It really is not,” Alana said, worry in her pretty eyes. “Margot texted me and told me that you seemed twitchy this morning.”

“I’m always twitchy.”

“Will,” Alana said and took one of his hands in hers. “You’re not doing well, and everyone that has a working set of eyes can see that.”

Will looked at her hand on his, and then pressed his lips together.

“I’m okay, Alana,” he said. “I’m doing okay.”

She nodded and took a sip of orange juice from the bag she had put on the table.

“If you say so,” she said. “Now tell me about that dog you got yourself?”

“I didn’t get a dog,” he disagreed. “He ran over the road last night on my way home and I thought it was a better choice to take him with me instead of having him run over.”

“What’s his name?” She asked. “Can I name him?”

“Your dog is called Applesauce, you are definitely not naming my dog,” he said and then corrected himself quickly. “It’s not my dog, he’s only staying until his owners show up.”

Alana smiled mischievously and popped a grape into her mouth.

“Lie to yourself. You wanted a dog for years, Hannibal though…what does Hannibal say about you having a dog now?”

“I don’t have a dog, and Hannibal doesn’t know.”

Alana almost spat out the juice that had followed the grape.

“Wait,” she said, raising one hand. “Your husband does not know that you have gotten a dog that is leaving hair and mud on his thousand dollar furniture.”

“The dog is not staying, and I’m telling him as soon as I get a chance.”

She cocked her head to the side, the brows raised in question.

“Are you talking at all?”

Will avoided looking at her and took a bite of the apple he had brought.

“Rarely,” was his short reply.

Silence hung between them for a while, then his fellow teacher took again his hand and made him look at her.

“Oh, Will,” she said, sounding sad. “You need to talk to him. How long has it been since…?”

Will took a breath and wet his lips.

“Almost three years,” he said, trying to shut the memory of the accident out. “Three years next

month.”

Alana nodded.

“The accident was not your fault,” she said. “Everyone knows that.”

“Tell that to Hannibal,” came his bitter reply.

“He is not blaming you for her death, I’m certain.”

Will shook his head, pulling his hand away.

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks, not anymore,” he said, eyes wandering over the faces in the cafeteria and stopping at the handsome face of one of the other teachers who was sitting on the other side of the room, listening to something Beverly was telling him.

“It does matter,” Alana said. “It’s not fair to you, it’s not fair to him, and it’s not fair to Francis.”

Will looked at Alana.

“Fran…?”

She smiled and looked in the same direction in which he just had looked, noticing that Francis started to look at Will from the distance.

“All three of you deserve better than this, Will. Especially you.”

He looked for a while at her, but no matter how long he was looking into her eyes, he could not find a reason to agree with her.

To him, he deserved every punishment in the world for what he had done.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He avoided going home for as long as he could put it off, like every day as long as he could think back. Instead of doing his work at home like he used to, he graded papers in the teachers’ lounge and procrastinated as long as he could before he finally packed his things and got to his car.

The parking lot in front of the school was abandoned and dark, somewhat creepy and he often had the feeling of being watched when he was at a place like this, but he got without being bothered by anyone or anything into his car and started the reliable vehicle to drive to Alana and Margot’s place to pick the dog up.

Margot hugged him and asked him if he wanted to come in and take dinner with them, but he declined and said that he was tired, which was not a lie, but still, he knew that he would not find real sleep like he never did anymore, took the dog that was excited to see his new friend again and then made his way back to the mansion in which they lived.

He frowned at the number of cars he found around their house, and even the space in the driveway in which he usually parked was occupied so that he had to park two streets away and walk the distance.

Entering the house, he was surprised by a huge amount of people in formal clothing that were lingering in every space of their house, music, and the scent of delicious food.

“What the fuck?” He murmured to himself, trying to remember if he had forgotten something, but since he and Hannibal were not talking anymore, he was almost certain that he had not got any information about a dinner party tonight.

“Oh, what a cute dog,” a busty blonde he had never seen before said and started to almost jump the dog who whined and pressed himself against Will’s legs before the blonde looked up at Will with an appraising look. “And you are cute too.”

He blinked at her, the room already spinning around him.

“Uhm…thank you?” He gave back, looking around and seeing some faces he was well acquainted with and then laid eyes on the man he had seen every day and had once dreamed of seeing him every day for the rest of his life. Tonight though, he wanted to punch that smug smile off his handsome mug.

Hannibal was talking to someone he had met before but could not remember the name, probably some socialite, and was not paying attention to anything, until his eyes strayed, like he often did, observant and inquiring, and his gaze landed on Will. A frown appeared on Hannibal’s face, he said something to whoever he was talking to, excusing himself, and then walked over to him.

“What the fuck, Hannibal?” Will hissed when he reached him.

“What is that?” Hannibal asked, looking down at the dog at Will’s leg with pure disgust.

“A dog,” Will answered shortly. “I repeat, what the fuck, Hannibal?”

“What is that animal doing in my house?”

“Your house? Wow,” Will said. “What are these people doing in our house?”

Hannibal greeted someone who passed them with a nod.

“I’m hosting a dinner party it seems,” he replied.

Will nodded.

“A dinner party,” he said. “And you did not think you should have informed me about that?”

“It must have slipped my mind.”

Again, Will nodded.

“That’s…ridiculous,” he said. “I live here, Hannibal. I fucking live here…”

“There is no need to be rude, Will,” Hannibal gave back.

Will looked at his husband, took in how handsome he was, the sharp cheekbones and sculpted features, the smooth and soft looking hair in that weird color between brown, dark blond and first strands of grey, his unique maroon eyes, and the tanned skin. He wore a purple jacket over a white shirt with a cravat, and every other man would have looked ridiculous in that outfit. But not Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He looked like he stepped out of one of those fashion magazines that Alana sometimes sneaked into his bag at work. And he hated him for that.

“Explain what this animal is going here,” Hannibal demanded.

Will looked around, distracted by the sounds the many people around him made, intruders in the one place that once had been a sanctuary for him.

“Is that Jack?” He said, blinking unbelieving when he noticed the tall dark-skinned man who closed his eyes in bliss while eating some finger food.

“It appears so. Explain the animal,” Hannibal demanded again.

“You invited Jack,” Will said, looking again at Hannibal.

“It appears so,” Hannibal repeated.

“You invited Jack. You invited my fucking boss to your dinner party you forgot to tell me about,” he said, glaring at the taller man, who still stood there without showing any reaction on his gorgeous face.

“Will,” he then started, but Will raised a hand.

“Excuse me, Dr. Lecter,” he said, mocking the posh diction of the Lithuanian. “I will retreat to my room if you allow it.” He tsk’ed at the dog and went to go upstairs.

“I don’t allow this animal in my house,” Hannibal told him, stopping him with a hand on his arm.

Will stared for a second at the hand, at the first physical contact in a longer time than seemed possible for two men who once had loved each other, but then shrugged Hannibal’s hand off.

“If you can host a dinner party without my knowledge and invite an army of strangers into my home, including my boss, I am allowed to keep my dog,” Will said and went to the stairs, while the dog looked from Hannibal to Will and back to Hannibal.

“Will…,” Hannibal started.

“Winston, come,” Will said, slapping his right thigh with a hand, and the dog who had just gotten a name, followed him happily, leaving behind his stern-faced


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal woke up with a headache that was caused by the sounds and scents he had put himself through the prior evening. The guests had stayed unreasonably long for a weekday, but he had needed this get together to distract himself from the dreams and thoughts that were torturing him and seemed to never stop.

At first, he was without orientation, which was normal for him after waking up. Sometimes he still thought he was in Lithuania and a happy child, and maybe he had only dreamed the years that changed his life until he had become the man he was today. But no, he was an adult, and no longer carefree. He had responsibilities. He had a family. He had a husband…

Hannibal turned to his left and looked at the empty place next to him, untouched for months. He still prepared the other side of their bed like Will was still sleeping at his side. The two softer pillows that Will preferred, a bottle of lemon-flavored water on the nightstand and always a pack of ibuprofen in the drawer, accompanied by his favorite toys, a glass bottle of lube, and a box of licorice. Hannibal found himself checking every evening before he went to bed if everything was in place, just in case that Will returned to sleep here and then he would see that…Hannibal did not know what he hoped for what he expected. Maybe he had stopped to hope for anything.

Tired and the hair a mess Hannibal got up and went to take a shower, long and hot, until he felt the tension from his muscles fall off him, and after shaving, he got into the dark blue robe, which had been a Christmas present years ago, and went downstairs to prepare breakfast.

Will’s eyes last night after he had come home had surprised him, almost shocked him. Will had not been disappointed and sad, he had been angry and furious. He had shown a side of himself that Hannibal had rarely seen even after years of living together, and maybe, just maybe Will had been right. He should have at least told him that he was planning a dinner party again, had invited friends, co-workers and acquaintances, maybe he should have asked Will if he wanted to attend with him, but he had not for a single moment had a doubt that Will would have brushed him off and told him to do what he wanted. They had lost interest in each other’s life after the one life they had shared had ended,

Still, seeing Will last night distressed, twitchy and upset, it had touched something inside him.

Without thinking, Hannibal cut and browned some onions and garlic in a slice of butter, whisked eggs with a dash of milk, salt, and pepper in a bowl and added the mixture to the onions and stirred until done, fried a couple of breakfast sausages in another pan and let them get ready while he got the coffee maker to work and cut up some tomatoes and finally put everything in one of the ceramic Tupperware bowls and put it onto the counter.

It took only a few minutes until he heard steps on the stairs and then the rattle of keys, Will’s soft voice obviously talking to the forsaken animal he had brought along with dirt and vermin into his house.

“Will?” Hannibal said loud enough that he knew that Will had heard him, but the mention of the name was met with complete silence, before again the sound of steps reached his ears and Will entered the kitchen, a deep frown on the face, looking pale and tired.

“Hannibal,” Will only said as a greeting, wearing the atrocious parka that he had owned for years and that Hannibal had several times tried to get rid of, but Will liked the jacket.

Will frowned at Hannibal, while the animal was leaning again against his leg with a wagging tail.

Hannibal looked at the dog with disgust but did not say anything about it.

“I made breakfast,” Hannibal said flatly.

Will blinked, staring at the Tupperware in front of Hannibal that held delicious-looking protein scramble exactly the way he liked it.

“You made…breakfast,” Will repeated.

Hannibal gave a short nod.

“I thought it would be nice if you could take something to work,” he explained. “That cafeteria food can’t be better than what they serve in the hospital, and…”

“You made breakfast.”

Hannibal nodded again and closed the lid of the Tupperware, shoving it a little into Will’s direction, who continued to stare at the bowl. Then he looked up at Hannibal, looking, searching for something, before he took the bowl and shoved it into his bag.

Hannibal saw how Will was fighting with something, how he was not sure what to do or what to say, and so his husband only said: “Thank you.” and left the room, accompanied by the animal who followed him gladly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hannibal was walking with wide steps down the corridor that lead to his office in the hospital. As head of surgery, he had a tight schedule and after a six-hour long surgery he just had to perform on the victim of a shooting, a policeman who had been shot while not being on duty when he tried to stop a robbery in a pharmacy, he was tired and still full of adrenaline.

“Hannibal?” A voice behind him asked and he turned in his step, looking at his colleague who smiled at him.

“Donald, what can I do for you?” He asked.

“Did you do the surgery on Sergeant Willows?” Sutcliffe asked. “I thought Dimmond was

scheduled today?”

Hannibal smiled knowingly.

“Anthony did not show up in time. I will have to talk to him. It’s the third time this happened. I’m afraid, but Beverly’s protégé is not taking his profession very seriously.”

Sutcliffe sighed.

“I will talk to Beverly, and maybe also to Chilton,” he said, clapping a hand on Hannibal’s arm, a gesture he would not allow if Sutcliffe had not been a friend for years. “Dimmond needs at least to get a warning. I will suggest suspending him from surgery.”

“That will only cause him to act like the spoiled child he is,” Hannibal said. “Keep me posted on how you will proceed about him, I will put this into my report.”

“Something else, how is Sergeant Willows doing?”

“He will live if no unexpected complications arise,” Hannibal said. “We had to remove his spleen and he has some damage done to his abdomen. The blood loss is what worries me, but so far it looks good.”

The other surgeon nodded.

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday. Food and company were as always without comparison,” Sutcliffe smiled. “I missed Will though.”

“Will was working long, he apologizes that he came home late and then was forced to retreat by a headache,” Hannibal lied.

Sutcliffe looked at him for a moment.

“Is everything okay with you?”

“Of course, Donald,” he answered. “Why would it not be?”

“I have not seen you two together for a long time, Hannibal,” Donald said. “You were inseparable before…”

Hannibal wanted to ask what he was implying, but he knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Things change,” Hannibal said.

Donald nodded after a moment of thought.

“I guess they do. It’s a shame though,” he said, the lips pressed together. “So, you are on your way for your appointment?”

Hannibal frowned at him.

“The secretary, Hannibal? The replacement for your missing in action secretary that ran to

Europe?”

“Oh,” Hannibal said. “Yes, yes.”

“He has forgotten about the appointment,” the surgical head nurse said while walking past the two surgeons.

“I have not forgotten the appointment, James,” Hannibal said after the third man who was continuing to walk down the corridor with a clipboard in his hand.

“Yes, you have,” Jimmy Price sang and then went into an office almost at the end of the corridor.

“I think Jimmy has just gone into your office,” Sutcliffe laughed.

“Yes,” Hannibal said, still looking at the spot where the door closed behind the nurse. “I better see what he is doing before he starts to rearrange my files.”

Sutcliffe clapped again Hannibal’s arm before he went to his office himself, following the nurse, who was leaning against the antique file cabinet in Hannibal’s office with a smirk.

“Can I do something for you, James?” He asked.

“I have the results for the blood tests we ran on Susan Norris as you wanted,” he said and handed the clipboard to Hannibal who took off his white coat and sat down behind his desk, looking at the numbers and results.

“That looks much better than I expected,” Hannibal said and looked up at Jimmy who was still standing there. “What do you think?”

“I think we can schedule her for surgery within the next days. She’s stable enough,” he said, smiling and always happy that one of the best surgeons the hospital had wanted to hear his opinion.

Hannibal nodded.

“Have her scheduled. I want you, and Freddie on my team. Try to get Pazzi on board for anesthesia.”

Jimmy raised a brow.

“Pazzi?” He asked, knowing that Hannibal and the other doctor were rarely on board with each other’s opinions.

Hannibal gave a nod.

“Dr. Pazzi has maybe not the most pleasant personality, but he is one of the best anesthetists,“ he said. “Mrs. Norris has a good chance that we can help her, but only if we get the best onboard.”

“I’ll talk to his secretary and see what his schedule says,” Jimmy said with a grin. “And I think your appointment is here. Be nice, Dr. Lecter, and I can maybe stop doing your paperwork and return to my real job.”

Hannibal could not help a short smile and watched Jimmy leave the office, heard him talk shortly to someone who was waiting in the small secretary’s office in the front, and then Jimmy opened the door again.

“Your appointment, Dr. Lecter,” Jimmy said with a bright smile and stepped aside to let the waiting person pass and closed the door behind her.

Hannibal frowned.

The young woman that entered was gorgeous, dressed into not expensive but nice clothes, and had a kind smile on her face. He though was not frowning at the dark, chocolate color of her flawless skin, he was frowning at the white cane she was carrying in her right hand. He got up and went to greet her.

“Good afternoon,” he said, trying to sound welcoming and kind, but his tiredness and the accent made his voice harsher than he had meant it to be, still she smiled into the direction of his voice and tilted the head up a little.

“Dr. Lecter, I presume?” She asked. “Reba McClane, we have an appointment at 4.”

“I’m aware, Miss McClane,” he replied. “May I guide you to a chair?”

She nodded.

“Thank you.”

After she sat down and Hannibal went to take his place again behind his desk, she handed him her application papers, which she had sent in advance per email and that had looked very promising.

“I assumed you read the papers I had sent,” she stated. “I have experience in hospital work and have been working in New York’s Bellevue Hospital for the past three years, also in the surgical department.”

Hannibal looked at the paperwork.

“Yes, I saw that,” he asked. “May I ask why you quit your job there?”

“I had a few problems with the surgeon I was directly working for. There is an ongoing lawsuit for sexual harassment and discrimination against Dr. Wells,” she explained. “He thought me being a black disabled woman must mean that I’m looking for a sugar daddy.”

Hannibal chuckled at her bluntness.

“I can assure you I am only looking for a secretary after mine was pre-dispositioned to romantic whims. Followed her heart to the United Kingdom. Sad to see her go,” Hannibal said. “My office is a bit of a mess, I don’t have enough time to take care of all the paperwork that comes in this field of work, and I’m afraid the head nurse is not too happy about this additional task. We are both making more overtime then the hospital would ever be willing to compensate.”

Reba laughed, pearly, and clear.

“Your wife must be very unhappy,” she said.

“Husband,” Hannibal said automatically. “How do you know I’m married?”

Reba smiled at the information that Hannibal had a husband, and Hannibal saw that she was thinking that a gay surgeon probably had experienced some sort of bullying or harassment himself and would even understand better where she was coming from.

“I felt your ring when you greeted me and lead me to the chair,” she said.

“Very observant,” he said pleased. “I assume that the hospital can and will provide the necessary equipment for you to start working.”

“I have some things myself that I would be willing to bring in,” she said, her smile beaming.

“Miss McClane, might I call you Reba?” He asked and she nodded. “Reba, I have been already familiar with your application and your recommendations are flawless. I would be very happy if you could start working as my assistant and secretary as soon as possible. I think this would be a fruitful cooperation. You have already been informed about payment and social benefits we can offer you?”

“Yes, Dr. Lecter,” she said.

Hannibal smiled and got up.

“Please give me a call with the information when you can start the soonest possible,” he started, but Reba interrupted him.

“I can start tomorrow,” she said quickly.

Hannibal was surprised but pleasantly so.

“Then I see you tomorrow, Reba,” he said and guided her to the door after they both got up.

She smiled up at him.

“Thank you, Dr. Lecter,” she said. “Thank you for giving me a chance, I will do my best that you won’t regret it.”

“I am certain I will not,” he said and opened the door.

They shook hands and said their goodbyes.

Hannibal was already turning back to return to his desk when Reba said: “Your husband must be a very happy man.” before she left.

He looked at the ring on his left hand that he only took off during surgery and always put it back on immediately afterward.

“I wish he was,” Hannibal said and returned to bury his thoughts in work, sitting down behind his desk and looked at the picture that showed two happy men on their wedding day, the remainder of a life that was no longer reality.


	4. Chapter 4

The anniversary of the accident had come and gone without Will or Hannibal acknowledging the date in any way. Will knew that Hannibal would not go to the graveyard, but he did. Like he did every year. On her birthday, at Christmas, at the anniversary of the day that had destroyed anything he had taken naively for granted.

He had put down flowers, white roses because she had liked them the most, and had talked to her for a while, had told her how much they missed her and that he wished it had been him and not her.

His trembling hand touched the tombstone of white marble.

_Simonetta Lecter_

_2001 – 2017_

_beloved daughter_

_forever missed_

“I’m sorry,” his whispered, no longer able to cry, his eyes dry and his heart nothing but a heavy burden. “I’m so sorry.”

He rubbed his hand over his face and then went up, pressing his lips together and went back to his car where Winston waited patiently for him.

Alana had been surprised that he had gone into work that day, had assumed he would call in sick, but he needed to distract himself, had done his lessons, had ignored anyone who approached him that day, and had returned home.

Hannibal had been sitting in the living room when he came home, a glass of red wine in his hands and was staring into the fireplace. He did not show any sign that he had heard Will come into the house and did not move even when Will looked at his husband for minutes. And so Will went upstairs, Winston trotting behind him like an always present shadow and had again drunk until his eyes had fallen shut and he forgot.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The last days before the break went for Will like he was in a trance. His students almost all passed their midterms and he would be giving some of them recommendations for colleges if they needed some.

After the last lesson before he would be free from school work for a week, he was packing his bag, rummaging through papers, and searching for the silver Montblanc ball pen that had been a Christmas present a few years back, always panicking when he thought he lost the expensive item, but it was not the price that made the ball pen precious to him, it was that it was a reminder of happier times. He sighed when he finally found the pen under a stack of books at the side of his desk and put it into the leather case he carried with him at all times.

“Mister Graham?”

He looked up and saw Abigail Hobbs standing in the door of his classroom.

“Abigail,” he said, smiling kindly like he always did when he met the girl that had been his student for the past seven years and that had grown up into a pretty young woman. “Can I do something for you?”

She nodded, pressing her bag against her chest and came closer.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“I was just leaving, but of course. Will you accompany me on my way out?” He asked, sensing that it was something serious and wanted to take the edge off the situation, and she nodded and walked beside her teacher down the hallway after he had locked up the classroom.

“What’s wrong, Abigail?”

“You probably won’t remember, but some years ago you said that I could always come to you or Dr. Lecter if I had problems,” she said, her voice thin and almost a whisper. When she looked up, Will saw that she had tears in her eyes. “I…this was a mistake.”

“Abby,” he said like he had not called her in years, remembering the girl that had been a guest in their home almost every week. “Things have changed, yes. But that offer still stands. What is wrong? Problems at home?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t know,” she said. “This was a mistake, I’m sorry, Mister Graham.”

She looked at him, sad, and then turned around and walked quickly away from him.

“Abby!” He shouted after her, getting ready to run and stop her, but a hand on his arm stopped himself.

When he looked up, he looked into Francis’s blue eyes.

“Trouble?” The other teacher asked him, looking at Abby who was getting into her small car and left the parking lot a moment later.

“She wanted to tell me something, but then she changed her mind,” Will said. “She was a close friend of Simonetta, and we told her we would be always there for her. I think that she has problems at home. Her dad is…”

“Yeah, I met Mister Hobbs. He’s strict and he has very high expectations of his daughter,” Francis agreed. “I’m sorry that I interrupted.”

“No, don’t be. She changed her mind already. I will try and talk to her after the break.”

Will again looked up at the handsome man with the angular face.

“Will I see you during the break?” Francis asked.

Will nodded.

“I think so,” Will replied and looked around and when he noticed that they were alone he leaned up and kissed Francis only shortly.

The other man smiled and took Will’s hand in his.

“I miss you. It’s been more than a week,” he said, looking at their interlaced fingers.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

Francis nodded but did not look at Will’s face.

“Hey,” Will said, sensing that something was bothering the other man. “What’s wrong?”

“I will not wait forever, Will,” Francis said and Will needed all his strength to not sigh. The feeling of guilt that was always present grew stronger within seconds and he squeezed Francis’s hand.

“I know you won’t. And I’m not asking you to.”

Francis nodded, trying to not look at Will but then looked right into his eyes.

“Do you want me to wait for you?”

Will considered his words for a moment.

“What is it that you want?” He then asked.

“I love you,” Francis replied. “And I want you. But I can’t be the one getting hurt and I’m not some toy you can take out and play when you get bored.”

Will adjusted his glasses and closed his eyes for a moment.

“You’re not a toy, Francis.”

“What am I then? Some distraction because your husband doesn’t get it up for you anymore?”

Will narrowed his eyes.

“That was uncalled for,” he said, his voice hissing. “Leave Hannibal out of this.”

“Then tell me what I am to you.”

“You are…,” Will hesitated.

Francis laughed.

“You don’t even know yourself. I better go. See you soon, Will.”

Will stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said.

“I don’t want that either, but I don’t even have you,” Francis gave back. “And I won’t have you as

long as you are still in that farce of a marriage.”

Will nodded, knowing what Francis was implying.

“You’re right. I will try to talk to Hannibal about the divorce again, but I can’t force him. You know that.”

Francis nodded knowingly and pressed a kiss to Will’s temple.

“I love you,” he said. “Don’t forget that.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Will finally arrived home after picking up Winston from Alana and Margot, again declining their invitation for dinner, he stopped in his tracks as soon as he and his dog had entered the hallway. He was happy that Winston was still with him, after nobody seemed to miss the dog, and it was out of his understanding of how nobody missed such a great dog. Winston replied to every command, was cheerful, kind, great with children, sociable and a great cuddler. He was exactly the dog Will had always dreamed of having and never had been able to get. It was as if fate had put him into his way at exactly the right time. He had been looking forward to a quiet evening in his room with his dog, watching some TV or reading a book, only accompanied by Winston and a bottle of bourbon. All he wanted for tonight was forget the day, his conversation with Francis that had upset him more than he wanted to admit, and more important, forget at least for tonight that Abigail had tried to talk to him and that she had deemed him inadequate of dealing with whatever was worrying her. There had been a time when he would have been able to reassure her, give her the confidence and empathy to open up, or would have been able to sit down with Hannibal and talk about what was bothering him. But that was no longer an option.

So, Winston, bourbon, and Netflix it was instead. And he felt like a terrible human being that he had to let down people that meant something to him and that he only was able to disappoint and disappoint again.

But when they entered the house, he froze in his movement while the door slammed shut behind him.

There were several suitcases standing at the bottom of the stairs, and Will did not have to be a genius to recognize his own suitcases, two black trolleys, one of them a large soft case one that he had gotten years ago for their honeymoon, the other a hard case with silver applications.

“What the fuck?” Will whispered.

He frowned and put his keys into the ceramic bowl on the sideboard next to the door and shrugged out of his beloved old canvas jacket and put it onto one of the hooks next to Hannibal’s brown Burberry overcoat with the darker brown velvet lining.

He did not need to search long for Hannibal, finding his husband in the living room, sitting in one of the armchairs facing the fireplace, like he often did in the evenings, holding a glass of wine in his hands.

“Are you kicking me out?” Will asked without greeting, and Hannibal looked up at him.

“Why makes you think that?” Hannibal asked. “You are early. Did your lover not have time for you tonight?”

Will winced but decided to not react to those words, clearly meant to provoke him. He knew that Hannibal had long been aware of his relationship to Francis, hell he had thrown the information that he was sleeping with another man into his face to just get a reaction out of him, any reaction. But the only reaction he had gotten was that Hannibal had looked at him and then left the room.

“My suitcases in the hall kind of gave it away.”

Hannibal raised a brow.

“If you had paid closer attention, you would have seen that those are not only your suitcases before you jumped to conclusions,” Hannibal said. “Sit down, please, Will.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“Will. Sit down,” Hannibal repeated with a harsher tone.

Will gave a nod, seeing that Hannibal was not open for discussions, and got himself a generously filled glass of the most expensive bourbon that their liquor cabinet held, and then sat down on the armchair opposite Hannibal who was eyeing the dog that followed Will with every step he took with suspicion.

“He won’t get dirt on the upholstery,” Will chuckled and patted Winston behind his ears, knowing that if Winston had been a cat he would purr. Instead, Winston’s tongue lolled out of his mouth and he grinned at the man who lived with his owner but so far never acknowledged his existence.

“I hope. It is drooling on the hardwood floor though,” Hannibal said. “We need to talk.”

Will looked at him for a moment, studied the movements of his jaw and the expression in his eyes, once filled with love and kindness, and now only with cold and rejection.

“We indeed should,” Will said with a nod. “I want the divorce. I know that you still have not signed the papers, and…”

“We have been invited,” Hannibal interrupted him before he could end his sentence, the eyes narrowed at Will’s words.

“We…what?” He gave back.

Hannibal handed him a piece of paper, a short handwritten letter on expensive hand-made paper. A calligraphy that Will had seen before and recognized quickly.

The content of this letter made Will frown though. He read it a second and then a third time and then looked up at Hannibal, an unspoken question in his eyes.

“Yes. We have been invited as you see,” Hannibal told him. “Uncle Robert wants us to attend the celebration of his 75th birthday.”

Will looked down at the letter and then back up at Hannibal, taking another sip of bourbon, enjoying the earthy taste on his tongue, hoping he would soon be able to experience the pleasant numbness the alcohol would trigger.

“Your uncle’s birthday is this weekend,” Will said. “How long have you known?”

Hannibal took himself some of his wine, holding the liquid a moment in his mouth before swallowing it. Will noticed how tired his husband looked, how much pain still was mirrored in his eyes, and he had to withstand every urge to get up and take him into his arms, knowing he would be rudely pushed away anyway as it had happened in the past.

“A few weeks,” came Hannibal’s reply.

Will nodded.

“A few weeks,” he stated. “And you only tell me that today.”

“I am.”

“Why, Hannibal? Did you think that I would lose my temper when you tell me now? Did you think you could provoke me?”

“What I thought is not interesting,” Hannibal said. “I expect you to accompany me.”

Expectations. Of course. Not a plea, not a request. Just an expectation, not like they were husbands and equal partners in a relationship like they had been. Will rubbed his eyes and sighed.

“And what makes you think that I will go with you there to see your family?” Will said, without any doubt getting upset.

“This is your family too, Will, even if you forgot that.”

Will laughed.

“It has always been your family. I was never a part of it. I know that and you know that. I’ve never been welcome like you pretended I was.”

Hannibal’s lips twitched at those words.

“That is a very mean thing to say, Will. That is an unjust accusation towards a family that has always welcomed you with open arms.”

“If you say so,” Will said, trying to sound uncaring. “I don’t think I care.”

“I think you do, Will,” Hannibal gave back.

“So, tell me a good reason why I should go with you there, spend some beautiful days in the bosom of your snobby family?”

“Because if you will, I will sign the divorce papers. That is what you want, is it not, Will?”

Will thought for a moment, drank some of the bourbon, and then he nodded.

He felt a weird kind of relief. Felt a weight fall from his shoulders. But at the same time, he felt a new weight on his back. He felt sick and he wanted to run to the bathroom and throw up.

“Okay,” he said, surprised that his voice sounded strong and confident, but the smile on his face a lie. “I will go with you. And when we come back you will sign the papers and we both will be finally free.”


	5. Chapter 5

Will considered for a while to check the suitcases that Hannibal had packed for him but then decided to not do that. After years together, nobody knew him as Hannibal knew him, even after the last few years, and he hoped that Hannibal had packed the things he needed and wanted, and so he only checked in the bedroom for a few personal things that he might want to take for the shot trip and found everything gone. He frowned. Maybe he should tell Hannibal that he did not appreciate him to rummage through his things, but then this was his husband, still.

So far everything went quite pleasant, to be honest.

Hannibal put the suitcases into his Bentley and filled some bottles with fresh water, and Will watched with a smirk and growing curiosity how he put a basket with snacks for the drive behind the driver’s seat.

“What about Winston?” Will asked, standing in the doorway and getting into his jacket.

Hannibal looked up at him from the driveway.

“Can Alana take it?”

“It is a him,” Will said and fished his phone out of his pocket, dialed his friend’s number, and checked quickly.

Alana agreed immediately and he announced that they would drop Winston of on their way. While Hannibal was trying to find a blanket they cut put on the backseat for the drive to Alana’s, Will made another call.

“Will?” Francis answered after the second ring.

Will heard water running in the background and that Francis was out of breath.

“Hey,” he said. “Sorry to disturb you. I wanted to let you know that I will be gone for a few days.”

Francis hesitated.

“Gone? What does that mean?”

“I’m going with Hannibal to see family,” Will explained.

He was met with silence.

“With Hannibal,” Francis stated. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” Will said while Hannibal returned with a blanket, looking at him with a raised brow. “He is going to sign the divorce papers when we come back. I will be free.”

“And for that, you are going on a vacation with him?”

“It’s not a vacation, Francis,” he said. “It will be good, and when I come home we will talk and I will be free to start a new life. That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it is, but I don’t think that going with your husband on a trip will be good for you, Will.”

“You’ll see. Everything will finally work out,” Will said, a little surprised by Francis’ reaction. “I have to go. I’ll call you when we arrive.”

“I love you,” Francis said while Will was ending the call.

Hannibal had his eyes on him, but did not comment Will’s conversation with the other man, while Will brought Winston into the car, smirking at Hannibal’s wincing reaction at Winston’s bark, and then took his place next to Hannibal who brought them within minutes to Alana and Margot’s townhouse.

Alana was already outside waiting for them, Applesauce at her side. Will saw that she was smiling, but she had her arms crossed and raised a brow when Will kissed her cheek and thanked her for taking Winston for a few days.

“You’re sure?” She only asked.

“I am,” he replied. “I explain when I come back.”

Alana nodded and took Winston’s leash, who barked at Will.

“I know, buddy,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few days and then I’ll never ever leave you again. You’re my best boy.”

Winston went down and rubbed his hands through Winston’s soft fur.

“You’re so gone on him,” Alana laughed.

Will looked up and grinned.

“I always wanted a dog, you know that.”

Hannibal waited in the car, and Alana looked over to him and nodded into his direction.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’m actually not sure. At least over the weekend, depends on what the family has planned I guess.”

They kissed goodbye and Will returned to the car that Hannibal started and turned back onto the street.

“Shall we change drivers around half the way?” Will asked.

Hannibal nodded but did not say anything, while Will looked out of the window, suddenly a frown between his brows.

“Stop!” He yelled.

Hannibal hit the brakes and looked surprised at his husband.

“What is wrong?” He asked.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Will said and was already out of the car, Hannibal following, assuming that something had happened, and was met with the sight of a golden dog that was running towards Will, barking and the eyes wide in panic.

Will went to his knees and hugged his dog, who was whining and wagging his tail, a panting Alana on his heels.

“I’m sorry, he dashed forward the moment you drove away,” she said.

Hannibal frowned.

“I can’t leave him here, he’s scared I’m abandoning him,” Will said and looked up at Hannibal. “We’re taking him.”

“We absolutely are not,” Hannibal said emotionless.

“I’m not leaving my dog behind when he’s suffering. No offense, Alana,” Will said and got up, holding Winston’s leash in his hand. “He’s clean, Hannibal, and he won’t destroy anything in your precious car. We could still turn around and take the Volvo instead. Your family has dogs too and they will like him, I’m sure.”

Alana grinned at Will’s puppy eyes, not able to remember when she had witnessed the last time an almost normal conversation between the husbands who had been constantly bickering before the accident. It seemed so normal. So hopeful.

Hannibal sighed, already knowing that he had lost this battle before it started.

“If it slobbers onto the seats you are paying for the cleaning,” Hannibal said and opened the backdoor, ignoring the little fist pump that signaled Will’s victory.

“With my teacher’s salary? Dream on,” Will said while putting Winston back into the car.

After a second goodbye, they finally started their way upstate, a several hours long trip ahead of them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Of course, it not only started to heavily rain, but there was also a huge accident on the interstate they had to take, and while Will had fallen asleep, Hannibal was staring out of the window, eyes on the blinking lights of ambulances and police cars, the flow of traffic has come to a complete stop.

Soft music came from the stereo. It was no use to listen to the news station since they would anyway only report that there was an accident and that nothing would go forward for at least a few more hours.

He had texted his family that their arrival would happen later than planned so they would not be worried and the text he had received back minutes later told him that they would have breakfast ready for them.

Will stirred in his sleep beside him, and the dog on the backseat huffed, causing Hannibal to check on him in the mirror. The labrador mix sat on the backseat with an alert expression, as if h was sensing something.

“Wha…,” Will made next to him and when Hannibal looked at his husband, he saw his blue-green eyes wide in panic, staring at the blinking lights of the accident in front of him.

“Simone…,” Will whispered. “Oh, God. No. No no no no no, please no.”

Hannibal took automatically Will’s hand into his and pressed his fingers into his palm.

“Will,” he said, and when Will did not react and instead continued to stare at the road ahead, again louder: “Will!”

Will turned to look at Hannibal, eyes still wide.

“Everything is all right,” the surgeon said. “It’s just an accident.”

Will continued to stare, and then he nodded slowly, realization dawning and he wet his lips. Tears were visible in his eyes.

“I…I’m sorry. I thought. Oh God,” he whispered. “For a moment I thought…”

He pulled his hand from Hannibal’s, even though the contact had felt so good, the bitter taste of guilt and shame in his mouth, and turned to stare instead out of the side window, hating to feel so weak. Hating that he would have to live with this feeling for the rest of his life.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They had changed drivers in the early morning hours, and Hannibal had fallen into an exhausted sleep, huddled under a soft blanket that Will had gotten from the trunk, and then he had continued to steer the Bentley for the rest of their way which still would take several hours. While changing drivers on a small gas station, Will had taken Winston for a short walk and given him some food and water, while Hannibal had watched them from the distance, stretching his legs and arms before he had sunk into the soft, heated seat.

Even though Will had not driven up here in a long time, he remembered the way as if it was imprinted into his brain for all eternity. The road became smaller streets, flanked by trimmed trees, the air from the close ocean clean and fresh and Will could not resist lowering the windows and held his nose into the chill air that woke Hannibal.

His husband yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“We’re close,” Will said. “Sorry for waking you.”

Hannibal nodded.

“It’s appreciated, Will,” he said. “I would rather not be fast asleep when we reach our destination.”

It was Will’s turn to nod.

The rest of their way remained silent, tense, and unspoken words between them. Will felt again this unwell heaviness in his gut, like he always had when something unplanned was happening, something he had not been able to prepare for. He wished he would be back home, would meet with Alana, Margot, and Beverly for brunch, would go on long walks with Winston, and would meet with Francis for some long conversations and satisfying sex. The feeling that this trip was a mistake became stronger and stronger with every second that passed and for a moment he considered to ask Hannibal to take over the driver’s place again, but he did not want to show his husband how panicked and anxious he was.

Turning into the driveway, they passed the heavy iron gate with the Lecter’s coat of arms that they had brought from Lithuania years ago, and that Hannibal always looked at when they arrived. A reminder of their old family home that they had left so many years ago.

Will steered the Bentley slowly up the driveway, and after a few yards, the white mansion Hannibal’s family lived in came into view, elegant and without any doubt the home of rich people.

Will remembered the first time Hannibal had brought him here, almost ten years ago after they had started dating and it had started to be so serious between them that Hannibal insisted that Will should meet his family. Will had been equally scared that day, had not expected a mansion of that size and beauty, and had been scared of what people like the Lecters would think about someone like him. Hannibal had reassured him that no matter what they would say, he would continue to love him.

How things had changed.

Will parked the Bentley but hesitated for a moment to leave the car while Hannibal got out and stretched again his long legs, and then watched Will when he finally left the car himself.

“No welcoming committee?” Will asked.

“It’s early. They will be either asleep or maybe having breakfast on the terrace,” Hannibal said while Will took Winston from the backseat the moment two dogs cam dashing around the corner of the mansion, barking and excited. Will grinned at the sight of the Bernese mountain dog and the Jack Russell terrier that barked at the stunned Hannibal and then turned their attention to Will and the other dog.

Winston huffed but was wagging again his tail, while Will knew that the two dogs were friendly and would never do any harm.

He went into a crouching position and welcomed the two yipping and excited dogs.

“Buster! Max! Hey guys,” he laughed. “Oh, I missed you too, how I missed you. Guys, this is Winston. Winston, these are Buster and Max.”

Winston huffed as if he understood while Max went to sniff at the stranger and Buster started to run overeager circles around them.

“I think the family will be back out then,” Hannibal said. “Let’s go and greet them and get the luggage later.”

Will followed him with a nod, Winston close by his leg and withstanding to run with the other two dogs, still insecure if he was allowed to run and play himself.

Will’s nervousness grew and he had never wanted a drink this much before in his life and started to chew his lower lip when he saw the man that was sitting on a bench in the backyard, surrounded by lush flowers and bushes, a large mug with probably coffee in front of him, wearing a grey t-shirt and track pants, the white hair combed back. He looked more like a gardener than like a count, and Will had to smile at the sight.

“Uncle Robert,” Hannibal said, and the other man looked up.

Light blue eyes lit up in recognition and a smile spread over the face that was showing traces of age, but still was filled with a bright spark of life.

“Hannibal!” Count Robert Lecter laughed and got up, making a few steps towards his nephew and took him into his arms, laughing and happy to see the man who had once been the boy he had raised after the death of his parents. “Oh, you could come! Splendid! We were not sure you could make it!”

Robert continued to laugh, but then his eyes fell onto the other man standing behind Hannibal and shifting from one foot to the other.

“And who do we have there?” Robert said and went from Hannibal to the other arrival, but instead of welcoming Will, he went down to pat Winston who huffed happily at the attention.

Both Hannibal and Will rolled their eyes.

“Such a pretty boy,” Robert said and then looked at Will, eyes gleaming with mischief. “And here I thought I’d never see you again, Will,” he said, and then bear-hugged his nephew’s husband.

A hug Will returned, closing his eyes in which tears welled up.

“It’s been too long, Will, it’s been way too long,” Robert said into his shoulder and then clapped a hand to his shoulder, smiling at him.

Will’s smile was only hesitant, the insecurity slowly ebbing away.

“This is the best birthday present I could have hoped for. My boys finally back home,” he said cheerfully.

Will and Hannibal looked at each other, and both men wore a hint of a smile on their faces.

Home.

Will blinked a tear away.

“What the fuck?” A voice from the door said, and both Hannibal and Will turned surprised to look there. “Willy?”

Will blinked.

Blinked again.

And then the same bright smile appeared on his face that Hannibal was suddenly wearing, while the gorgeous, slender young woman ran a few steps and fell into his arms, embracing him into a hug that took his breath away.

“Hello, Mischa,” Will whispered into her blonde hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who else could I cast for Hannibal Lecter's uncle but...Hannibal Lecter?


	6. Chapter 6

“Are you certain that you should drink that?”

Robert Lecter looked up over the rim of his coffee mug and grinned at Hannibal while he took another large sip of coffee.

“I am very certain,” he replied.

“I would like to take a look at your medical records while we are here,” Hannibal said, taking a bite out of a croissant.

Mischa, sitting next to Will, chuckled, which earned her a death glare from her older brother.

“Do you have anything to add, Mischa?” Hannibal asked her.

She raised a brow.

“You sound like you are the father figure here,” she said. “When did you get that stick in the ass?”

“Mischa. No need to be rude,” Hannibal said.

“Or what? I need to go to my room without dessert…daddy?”

Will raised both brows and noticed that Mischa was looking at him.

“Oh, is that your name for him?” She grinned.

“You have no sense for privacy,” Hannibal said before Will could reply anything.

“There is no privacy in this family, and you know that,” Mischa said, tilting her chin into the direction of their uncle. “That one over there is the worst of us all. Always having his nose in things that don’t consider him.”

Robert grinned again.

“I just like to stay informed,” he said, and Hannibal and Mischa both rolled their eyes.

Will watched the banter between the family members. Since he had met them the first time, he had often asked himself what their childhood had been like. Had Hannibal been then already stoic and controlled? Had Mischa, ten years younger than her brother, been already her mischievous and snarky self? He had heard stories from their childhood, told by the people that raised them, but seeing them interact, it was always a joy. Even now, when he felt like he no longer belonged here.

“You’re just nosy,” Mischa said.

“Not like you are much different,” Hannibal gave back.

“I had the best teacher,” she winked at her uncle, but her eyes turned to watch Will, who had remained silent and had only watched the exchange.

Clear blue eyes, the same eyes her uncle had set on Will, Mischa took his hand and pressed his fingers.

“Everything okay?” She asked.

Will nodded, making short eye contact to see how Hannibal was reacting. His husband avoided looking at him and was looking at the three dogs that were running and playing together.

“Yes, just tired,” Will told her.

“Would you like to lay down a bit?”

He shook his head.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “I should take Winston for a walk.”

Mischa smiled softly.

“I’ll join you,” she said and got up, pulling him up from his chair too. “We can take Buster and Max too.”

Will nodded and left the backyard towards the garden, while Hannibal and Robert started a conversation on their own.

For a while, he and Mischa walked side by side, before she hooked her arm under his and leaned against him, head on his shoulder. A stranger would have assumed that they were a couple, but since the day they had met, they had just been friends, a friendship that had been put on hold for the past few years.

“Now tell me how you are really doing?” She said after a while.

Will hesitated.

“I’m good,” he replied after a few seconds but noticed how her eyes on him were questioning and skeptical.

“I don’t believe you a single second,” she then replied. “I haven’t seen you in years, since…well…since Simonetta’s funeral to be honest. And now you come back here with Hannibal and you don’t even look at each other. You are sitting at the same table but act like the other doesn’t exist.”

Will pressed his lips together.

“That’s not true,” he said.

“Willy…,” she started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Willy,” she insisted. “I get that you don’t want to talk about whatever is going on, but please know that I’m always there for you. Hannibal is maybe through a weird twist of fate my brother by blood, but you are my brother by choice, and I do not allow you to get hurt. Not by him, and not by yourself.”

He nodded. The smile he gave her showed though nothing but sadness.

“I’ll remember that.”

“Good,” she said and then repeated with a laugh: “Good!” and pinched his side, making him jump

in surprise. “Fuck, I’m so happy to see you, Willy.”

“Do not call me that,” Will laughed.

“Pfft, you’ll always be my Willy,” Mischa said, smiling. “I can’t believe Hannibal allowed you to get a dog,” she smiled.

“He did not really have a word in it,” Will said, watching Winston run ahead and then turn around to return to his side. “He was a stray a picked up a few weeks ago, nobody missed him so I decided to keep him.”

“You always wanted a dog.”

Will hummed in agreement.

“I’m glad I have him, he’s a great dog. I can’t understand why anyone would not go looking for him.”

“Humans are weird,” Mischa said.

“They really are.”

They continued to walk, arm in arm, but remained silent.

A silence that gave Will comfort and a sense of belonging somewhere. With someone.

With this family.

With this home.

And he became painfully aware that as soon as he and Hannibal would return to Baltimore, he would be all alone.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“So, you and Will,” Robert said.

Hannibal put down his glass of orange juice and swallowed.

“What about me and Will?”

Robert’s brows went up.

“What is going on between you?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Uncle Robert.”

Robert Lecter leaned forward, hands on the table, the piercing eyes inquiring and leaving no doubt that he was looking right behind the mask Hannibal had learned to wear already during his childhood.

“Don’t lie, boy,” Robert said, the voice sharp.

Hannibal remembered his uncle, always full of mischief, but also stern and, if necessary, a strict father figure who had taken him and Mischa in after their parents had died. Who had raised two children, a preteen and a baby, after they had lost everything, children he and his wife never wanted and still treated as if they were their own.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Uncle Robert.”

Robert huffed.

“The last time I saw you were here together, you had always your eyes on each other. To use Mischa’s words, you were eye-fucking,” he said, making Hannibal stare at him. “Now, you are not even noticing that you are sitting at the same table.”

“We are okay, Uncle Robert. We are just tired after the long drive,” Hannibal tried to explain.

Robert leaned back in his chair, taking up the coffee mug again.

“Does Murasaki know that you are drinking that?”

Robert shrugged.

“She tried to stop me, but she has no chance against my charms,” he said.

“I have no chance against your stubbornness, my dear.”

Hannibal looked up and immediately smiled.

His aunt was as graceful and elegant as she always had been, wearing a blouse of green silk and dark jeans that hugged her slender figure that many younger women would be jealous of. He stood up and went to greet her with a short formal bow, and then was pulled into a hug.

“I missed you,” Murasaki whispered against his shoulder. “It’s good you returned home.”

Hannibal smiled hesitantly.

“He brought a dog, and Will,” Robert said, while his wife went over to him and kiss him shortly.

“Good to see you have priorities,” she laughed. “Will came with you?”

“I hope he does tonight,” Robert laughed, earning a slap on the back of his head from his wife who rolled her eyes in the same way that Hannibal and Mischa often did. “He and Mischa took the dogs for a walk.”

“You are incorrigible. One would have thought a man your age would have learned some manners by now, after all, you are a count,” Murasaki said and sat down, taking Robert’s mug and scrunched her nose at the scent of strong coffee, and put the mug down with a resigning sigh.

“You have a dog?”

“Will has a dog,” Hannibal said and sat back down.

Murasaki looked at him for a while and then nodded-

“You look tired, my love,” she then said. “Too much work?”

“It’s always busy in the hospital,” Hannibal answered. “

Again, his aunt nodded, her dark, almost black eyes, assessing her nephew until she took her husband’s hand in his.

The unspoken love between Robert and Murasaki Lecter had always impressed Hannibal and most people that had met the couple. Robert’s family, Hannibal’s parents, had not been happy with his choice to marry a Japanese woman that was seventeen years younger than him, coming from a noble but conservative family. But they had insisted, Robert and Hannibal’s father had a big fight and Robert had finally moved to the States, where they had married and started a happy life until Hannibal’s parents had died. Hannibal had been twelve, and he had been so sure that the uncle and aunt he had never met before in his life, would send him and his baby sister to an orphanage, but instead, the Lecters had not hesitated for a single second and taken the children in and raised them.

He loved them both dearly, even if they sometimes drove him crazy, and seeing them together in love and happiness filled his heart with warmth and content.

If he only had been able to find a love like that on his own.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After Will and Mischa had returned, Murasaki had greeted her nephew’s husband with the same smile and warmth that she had shown towards Hannibal. Still, Hannibal was admiring the graceful woman, who got up, and he was somehow proud that Will himself bowed shortly in front of Murasaki as he had often seen other people do, and they had welcomed the hug in which he was pulled. Hannibal saw how the uneasy expression on Will’s face ebbed away and turned into a relaxed smile. Memories of happier times, when they had visited regularly, had spent weekends and holidays here, had enjoyed being part of a loving family.

It hurt.

It hurt seeing something that would never be real again.

“You two look so tired,” Murasaki said. “Lay down a bit and take a nap.”

Hannibal nodded, while Will stared at him over Murasaki’s shoulder.

“I’ll get the bags,” he then said and went back to where they had parked the Bentley, but Will followed him.

“I’m not going to sleep in the same room as you,” Will hissed while Hannibal was opening the trunk and pulled the first suitcase out.

“What did you expect? That they will not notice that something is wrong when you ask for separate rooms?”

“The only thing wrong is that I have agreed to come here with you,” Will said, taking out on of the bags himself.

“Why?” Hannibal asked. “Because my family treats you with a love you don’t want anymore?”

Will stared at him and then only shook his head, picked up a suitcase and a bag over his shoulder.

Murasaki had followed them and now again looked at the couple questioning.

“We had the rooms renovated last year,” she said. “I hope you will like them.”

“I am sure you took care of the perfect execution of your plans, Aunt.”

Murasaki accompanied them to the upper floor of the mansion and then lead the two men with their bags to one of the rooms that was facing the garden. The room was light and airy, masculine, and still elegant with a hint of luxury.

“It’s beautiful,” Hannibal said and put the luggage down, while Will came into the room behind him, putting down the case and bag down himself.

“Wow,” he said with a smile. “This looks like from a catalog.”

Murasaki smiled with pride.

“We will come to get you the latest for dinner,” she said, nodded, and went to close the door behind her, but turned once more around and smiled at them. “It’s good that you came back home.”

Hannibal and Will both looked for a moment at the now closed door, before they turned to each other.

“The bed is wide enough for us both to sleep in it,” Hannibal said. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in getting close to you.”

Will huffed.

“I know,” he said. “Is our deal still valid?”

Hannibal nodded and pulled a brown manila envelope from the side pockets of his Louis Vuitton suitcase and put it on the side table.

“It is.”

Will looked at the envelope.

The divorce papers.

In a few days, he would be finally free.


	7. Chapter 7

While Hannibal had taken a nap, Will had curled up in one of the large armchairs and stared out of the window for hours, his thoughts running circles and never reaching the point where he could find something that was even close to rest and calm.

Watching Hannibal’s sleeping form did not help either.

He had watched Hannibal sleep numerous times. Next to him, in his arms since the first night they had spent together. Already then it had been so clear to him that Hannibal was the one for him. He found something with the other man that he had never thought even existed. Until it all went to hell.

With every passing minute, he became more convinced that this trip had been a mistake. Being so close to Hannibal, being so close to a family that he had tried so hard to forget, it was much more painful than he had expected. It was torture. He almost wished they had not welcomed them back with smiles, hugs, and friendly words and instead had been angry, upset, alienating. But they had been the family that had been friendly and welcoming to the stranger that Hannibal had brought him into their house years ago the moment they had seen that he loved Hannibal with all his heart.

How things had changed.

And now, a few hours later, he found himself again watching Hannibal.

This time though, he was not watching his sleeping husband but was watching the tall Lithuanian while he inspected fruit and vegetable in the produce aisle of the local grocery store. Will could not help but roll his eyes and Hannibal not finding a single tomato of the quality he was looking for while they all looked the same to him. The surgeon turned the fruit in his hands, sniffed, scrunched his nose, put it away. And repeated the inspection with the next one.

When Will let out a very loud sigh, Hannibal looked up from his tomato inspection with a raised brow.

“Is something bothering you?” Hannibal asked.

Will smirked.

“Good to see that some things never change,” he replied. “You wanted to cook dinner, not write a thesis on tomato quality.”

“I am not using produce of inferior quality,” Hannibal said and put another tomato away, picking up another on.

“You know what? I’m going to get the pasta you need and when I’m back you maybe have moved on to zucchini.”

Will moved the shopping cart past Hannibal, but a hand on the cart stopped him.

“I am making fresh pasta.”

Will sighed again.

“Of course you are,” he said. “What do you need for that?”

“Semolina flour, salt, water.”

“I make a hard guess and say there’s water back at the house,” Will started but then noticed how

Hannibal took a breath. “Oh, you picky bastard. Okay, which water should I get to cook in?”

“The water pipes in the house are old, the water is of bad…”

“…quality. Got it. So, which should I get?”

“Try to find San Pellegrino.”

“Italian dish, Italian water. Of course.”

“And Organic semolina flour, and…”

“Hannibal,” Will said. “I’ve been shopping with you and for you before. I can do this, okay?”

Hannibal looked at him for a moment and then nodded.

For a moment they looked into each other’s eyes before Will broke the eye contact not able to hold it without it causing a reaction, and then moved away.

After getting several bottles of expensive water and the salt and flour that he knew Hannibal used also back home, he returned to find Hannibal having moved on from the produce section to the meat counter, where Hannibal was standing, a basket with some tomatoes and zucchini on one arm.

Will watched him silently, pretending to be annoyed by the time Hannibal needed for shopping while being amused and a little fascinated how his husband was able to select the ingredients he needed to cook his famous meals with such attention to detail.

Hannibal had a long discussion with the man on the other side about the perfect selection of veal for the meal he had planned, and Will found himself frowning when he saw how Hannibal was flirting openly with the young stranger who batted long eyelashes at the handsome doctor and complimented everything Hannibal said and agreed to everything Hannibal said. It would have been cute and years ago, Will and Hannibal would have laughed about it in the car. Now though, Will felt an emptiness in his heart watching Hannibal smile and talk softly to another man, who was so similar to him when he had been younger, when they had met. The successful surgeon and his daughter’s young teacher, meeting in a supermarket like this originally and then again at a parent-teacher conference after a one-night-stand in which neither had known of the other’s identity. He had been head over heels with a man who was so different from everyone he had ever met before.

The young man here selling the meat, he had the same innocent eyes Will had back then, curious and a little insecure, bright, and unspoiled. When he looked at his reflection of himself in the mirrored wall behind the counter, he saw a tired man who looked older than his real age, with shadows under his eyes, pale skin, and an expression of sorrow. That in addition to all that had happened, it was no wonder that Hannibal was now looking at a boy with interest. An interest that annoyed him.

He huffed and then moved with his cart closer, and casually put a hand on Hannibal’s arm.

“Han,” he said in a soft tone, using a pet name that he had not used for years and that felt strange to say again. “We need really to get moving or you will be done with dinner, not before next week.”

Hannibal looked at him in surprise, while the boy continued to smile.

“Han? As in Han Solo? That’s the way coolest name I’ve heard in a long time,” he exclaimed.

“He probably doesn’t even know who Han Solo is,” Will said. “And it’s actually Hannibal.”

The boy grinned, not getting the hint of tenure that Will was obviously claiming.

“That’s an unusual name. I like it.”

Hannibal took the pack of meat that was offered to him and put it into the cart, looking at Will.

“I do know who Han Solo is,” he said. “After all you forced me to suffer through those movies.”

“Suffer? You fucking cried when Han was put into carbonite,” he said. “And I’m not going to mention Order 66.”

Hannibal frowned.

“You are the one who cries at every Disney movie,” Hannibal said. “Do I need to mention Up?”

“Pixar, not Disney,” Will corrected. “And that was a low blow. We both cried.”

They smiled.

They actually smiled at the memory of watching a sad movie moment together.

Will realized how he had missed the banter with his husband, their exchanged that always ended in knowing smiles and looks of acceptance that was shared between two men who knew each other like the back of their hands until they had forgotten who the other man was.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When they returned back to the mention, Will helped Hannibal carry the bags into the kitchen and was surprised when Hannibal handed him a knife and asked him to help cut the vegetables to prepare the dinner that he had planned to serve.

Spending time in the kitchen together once had been a ritual between them, working together like a well-oiled machine, movements and the things they both did in synch with each other, so that Mischa, who joined to watch them, was commenting on them moving like they were dancing around each other.

Hannibal glared at his sister while Will grinned while he was cutting onions and garlic into tiny cubes, exactly the way Hannibal would need them, having done this countless times.

“This already smells divine,” Mischa said, stealing a piece of cut tomato to eat it. “I missed your cooking, Hanni.”

“Don’t call me that,” Hannibal said, but Mischa smirked at his words, stealing another tomato.

“And stop stealing the produce I need.”

Mischa shrugged.

“You’re an ass,” she said. “But I really love your cooking. You missed your calling, dear brother.

Instead of cutting open people, you should have been a chef.”

“If I had chosen that field professionally I would not find the joy in it anymore.”

“Does that mean you don’t find joy in your profession?”

“That is not what I said,” he said, not looking up while he was putting the prepared pasta dough through the machine.

“That is what you implied.”

“Mischa, do something useful and set the table?” Hannibal suggested.

“I wouldn’t dare,” she said, winking at Will. “Nothing I would put on the table would meet your high expectations. I’ve had you rearrange anything I ever tried in the past, so I won’t.”

Hannibal looked at her, a glare in his eyes, and then nodded.

“It’s not my fault you can’t tell a white wine from a red wine glass.”

“It’s not my fault you are a posh and spoiled asshole.”

“Children!” Will laughed at the sibling’s bickering. “Now shake hands, be friends again, and go play in your own corner.”

Mischa laughed.

“Always a teacher.”

“Thank God my student are better behaved than you are.”

“I’m behaving my best!” Mischa giggled.

“When that is your best I don’t want to know what your worst is,” Will said with a smile, offering her a piece of garlic bread fresh from the oven where he had pulled it out a moment before, which she accepted with happily beaming eyes.

“You will have no appetite anymore when you eat now,” Hannibal said.

Mischa rolled her eyes and continue to watch the two men a while longer before she excused herself.

The afternoon, shopping, and now cooking together, it felt so normal.

It felt so right.

If only life would feel so right as well.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Your cooking skills are truly unmatched,” Murasaki said, the eyes closed in bliss while chewing the food Hannibal had to arrange artfully on the plates.

“Thank you, Aunt,” Hannibal said, a proud smile on his face.

Robert and Mischa both nodded in acknowledgment, while Will, how sat next to Hannibal, smiled softly into the bite of veal he was chewing on.

It was the first dinner in…he could not even say how long he had not had dinner at Hannibal’s side, had enjoyed the food his husband was able to prepare more skillfully than the most famous cooks. He was famous among coworkers and friends for the elaborate dinner parties he was hosting from time to time, and the high society of Baltimore was courting the surgeon for being invited into his house, enchanted by his sophisticated appearance, his manners, the exotic accent and the fact that he was next in line to be a real Count. Will had never cared about either of those things. He only had seen the handsome, kind, and generous man, who often had seemed cold but had always been caring until one day he was not anymore.

“I don’t understand how you can keep your figure with his cooking, Will,” Murasaki said.

“Lots of horizontal sports I guess,” Mischa grinned into her wine glass.

Robert laughed loudly, while Will actually blushed, not giving a reply to that, while Hannibal just continued to cut his food and eat.

“It could have used a little more garlic,” he said absently, ignoring his sister’s words. “But I think it is sufficient.”

“More than that,” Will confirmed. “It’s perfect.”

“Thank you, Will,” Hannibal said politely, making Mischa narrow her eyes at them once again, sensing that something between them was different, that something was off.

The two of them continued their dinner in silence, while Hannibal’s family bickered back and forth, trying to not give away how far the distance was that was separating them.

“I’m a little disappointed that I was not invited,” a voice from the door said, and all five of them looked up.

While all of them smiled, it was Mischa whose eyes suddenly were filled with a spark that lit up the whole room and whose smile was showing nothing but happiness.

“Oh my fucking God,” Mischa whispered and stood abruptly up, pushing her chair back and running around the table to throw herself into the arms of the other person who smiled softly and held the fragile blonde close. “Missed you so much.”

Will and Hannibal exchanged a knowing smile and a sad look. It was easy to be happy for Mischa, but at the same time, it reminded them both of the emptiness that their lives had become, of the vacancy that had been left in their hearts when their love had ended.

Will broke the eye contact, never having been able to hold it for longer than a few seconds without unwanted emotions welling up, and watched the two women in the doorway who were talking to each other in hushed tones in the other’s native tongue, holding each other by a hand, smiling and the eyes filled with the deep love they held for each other. A love that Will was missing so much experiencing himself.

The void he was only able to feel, this lack of emotions and of warmth, it became a sudden pain.

And while he was wanting to be happy for Mischa, he could be nothing but jealous. Jealous of the one thing he had wanted to continue until the day he died, and that ha ended with Simonetta’s death when he had lost control of the car. He was angry at himself for the tear in his eye that hopefully nobody noticed and forced himself to maintain to smile.

“I will prepare another plate for you, there is enough food in the kitchen,” Hannibal said, interrupting his train of thoughts, and got up, putting his napkin down next to his plate.

When he passed his sister and her wife, he pressed a short kiss to the beautiful Japanese woman’s cheek.

“Welcome home, Chiyoh.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Good morning,” Hannibal said when he came into the sunroom at the back of the house, where the family usually took their breakfast.

Chiyoh and Mischa looked up at him, while his uncle was glaring at the mug in front of him like he wanted to force it into submission.

“Good morning,” Mischa said, warming both her hands on a mug with hot coffee, while her wife was chewing some of the colorful fruit salad that was her breakfast.

Hannibal sat down and put some scrambled eggs and sausages on the empty plate in front of him and poured some of the freshly pressed orange juice into the glass.

“You look tired,” Chiyoh remarked.

“I had not much sleep. Will’s animal whined most of the night.”

“Will’s animal is a dog, Hanni,” Mischa said.

Hannibal looked at her.

“I know it’s a dog. It’s still a smelling, dirty animal. And don't call me that."

“Winston does not smell,” Uncle Robert said and Hannibal turned his attention to him. “What?”

“Why do you know what the animal’s name is?”

“Because Will calls him that? Don’t you pay any attention?”

Hannibal drank some juice and got himself a mug of coffee, which his uncle eyed with interest.

“Give me that,” Robert said.

“What?”

“The coffee. Give it to me.”

“And why would I do that?”

Mischa giggled, the head turned to the side in a futile attempt that her uncle did not notice her laughing, while Chiyoh kept her reserved and stern face.

“Because this smells like piss and it probably tastes like it too, and I need my caffeine to make it through the day,” the count said and tipped a finger against the mug in front of him.

“What is it?” Hannibal asked.

“It’s green tea,” Chiyoh said. “And it’s good for you.”

“I want coffee,” Robert said, crossing his arms. “I lived 75 years drinking coffee and I will not fall over dead if I continue to drink it now.”

“Drink it,” Chiyoh said. “It is good for you.”

“Humbug.”

“Drink it,” she repeated. “I drink it too.”

“Damn Japs and their weird taste,” the older man muttered with a wink.

“We seem to have a taste for Lecters, which indeed is a proof for our weird taste,” the young woman said, the smile on her face soft.

Robert laughed.

“You’re right, but I still won’t drink this.”

Chiyoh rolled her eyes, long used to the exchanges between her wife’s stubborn uncle and herself.

“Where is Will?” Hannibal asked. “He must have gotten up long before me.”

Mischa’s eyes on him were inquiring and once again looking for an answer to a question nobody dared to ask.

“He’s taking the dogs for a walk, he left an hour ago I think,” Mischa said. “He looked like he did not get much sleep either. You really shouldn’t keep him up that long.”

His smile was mischievous like it always was, and her words made Hannibal remember a time when he and Will indeed could not keep their hands off each other. But that time seemed so long ago that it felt unreal to remember those days.

Hannibal nodded and inhaled the scent of the fresh and strong coffee.

“Did you not notice him getting up?” Mischa asked.

“I must have overslept him leaving,” he replied, knowing that the true answer was that Will had spent most of the night curled up in the armchair staring out of the window, both of them unable to talk to each other.

Again, Mischa looked at him before she and Chiyoh looked at each other.

Hannibal turned his attention to the windows and looked out of the room, over the garden that was colorful with the flowers his aunt had planted, and that looked serene and still so much like the garden in which he had hours after his and Mischa’s parent’s death, alone, worried and with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had been a boy, scared that his only relatives would send him or Mischa away, would separate them, but instead he had found a home and love. If only he had been able to maintain that happiness throughout his life.

The rest of the breakfast continued in almost silence, with an occasional remark from Uncle Robert about the tea he was forced to drink and an equally snarky comeback from Mischa, until she and

Chiyoh left and finally, after Robert excused himself with having to make a few calls, left Hannibal alone with his breakfast and his thoughts which still circled around Will and how much this trip, which should have been the end, reminded him of the start of their relationship.

He finally got up and left the sunroom, wanting to go back upstairs and read a little or make a few phone calls himself, but when he went up the stairway, he met Chiyoh who was on her way back down. That she stopped him with a hand on his arm surprised him.

“You have to talk to him,” she said, the voice soft but not leaving a doubt that she could read him like an open book.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he gave back.

“I think you do,” Chiyoh replied. “Please, talk to him before it’s too late.”

He looked a moment into the black pools her eyes were, serious and still with so much warmth that he had never experienced a moment in which he had questioned what Mischa saw in the woman she had fallen in love with.

And then he nodded, acknowledging for the first time to anyone that there was something he needed to talk about.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe there was still something to talk about after all.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Will had avoided meeting Hannibal so far, and he was happy that his plan worked when he left the room almost immediately after sunrise, and had escaped the house together with the three dogs and had taken them on an extended walk. It was two miles to the sea and when he had arrived there, he had watched the dogs run over the stony beach and play in the shallow water while he had sat down on a larger rock and watched them before he started his way back to the mansion hours later.

It had already been early afternoon when he returned, rubbing the wet fur of the dogs dry with the towels the Lecters held ready near the back entrance and had fed them then in the kitchen. Winston was happy about his dog friends but still had his eyes always on Will, as if he wanted to make sure that the human was okay. When he left the kitchen, Winston followed, his tail again wagging happily and in a way that had a calming effect on Will, who bend down a little to scratch the dog’s ears.

“You’re a good boy, huh?” He asked the dog and Winston huffed like he often did when Will was talking to him. “Come.”

Winston trotted behind Will, who intended to go upstairs and maybe take a nap, but when he passed the open door to the library, a voice said: “Can we talk for a moment, Will?”

While taking a deep breath, Will and Winston went into the room and found Murasaki Lecter sitting in front of the fireplace, clad in a soft-looking white knit jumper and holding a glass of red wine in her hand.

“Sit down with me,” she offered.

Will went to sit down in the armchair next to hers, while she got up and poured him a drink. He was not surprised when she returned with a glass of the bourbon he liked.

“Drinks in the afternoon?” He asked, accepting the offered glass.

“It’s almost early evening,” she smiled. “You look as stressed as I feel, Will.”

“Party preparations?” He asked.

She nodded.

“Your uncle does not turn 75 every year. It’s a milestone and I want him to have the best birthday he has ever had.”

“He is not my uncle,” Will said, taking a sip of the expensive bourbon she had served him.

Murasaki raised an elegant brow.

“We once were family to you.”

“I once was family to you too.”

She tilted her head to the side but did not comment on his words, still, there was a second of pain on her face, like he had slapped her.

“Robert is trying to pretend he does not care about his birthday at all, but he is trying to find out what his birthday present is for weeks,” she chuckled, trying to take the strain out of the conversation. “He is like a little boy like that. I love that he had kept that child in him alive.”

“He really is something else,” Will smiled, patting Winston’s ear who was leaning against his leg.

“But then, you both are.”

“Are you telling me I am childish, William Lecter?”

He had not used or heard that name in such a long time that it felt alien to his ears being called that, and he felt goosebumps on his arms at the sound.

“You are far from being childish, Lady Lecter,” he said, trying to hide his chills behind a smile.

“But like Robert has kept the child in him alive, you manage to keep the spark of love alive.”

“We had tough times too, Will,” she said. “Not only once. We have had bad fights, we sometimes still do, we have separated but we have found each other against every storm we had to dace in the past. Maybe it is naïve, but I do believe that true love can overcome anything if you just believe and don’t stop loving. The day I met Robert when I was still nothing but an exchange student, I knew he was the one for me, and I never believed in love at first sight, reasonable as I was. And here I am. I remember you telling me the same thing about what you felt when you met Hannibal for the first time. You just know. Maybe the big love stories of our time are stories like ours.”

He nodded and tried to avoid her inquiring gaze that seemed to look right behind his façade.

“What is happening between you and Hannibal, Will? Something is not right.”

“Everything is okay,” he replied, but he had hesitated to reply, so he repeated: “Everything is okay with us.”

She smiled and drank some of the wine, her eyes still on Will.

“I am not young anymore, but I am not blind,” she said. “You and Hannibal, do you not love each other anymore?”

He did not reply immediately. He did not have an answer to that question.

“You should ask Hannibal that question,” he then said, looking into the fire, a part of him not willing to hide his emotions anymore.

“Do you still love him?”

Will looked up.

Looked into the eyes of the woman who had calmed him the day before he got married to her nephew, when she had sat the whole night with him, Mischa and Alana, telling him childhood stories about the man he had loved back then more than life itself, had made him laugh and forget the worries and the fear that this perfect man could not really love him, a simple teacher who had nothing to offer to him but himself, with stories about the man he…

“I…,” he started but then he frowned at the sudden sound of a generic ring tone that filled the room.

His phone in the back pockets of his jeans had suddenly started to ring and he got up to pull it out, taking a look at the display. The caller ID surprised him, but he tried to not let Murasaki see his surprise.

“I have to take this,” Will said and Murasaki nodded while he left with a smile, pressing the answering button on his phone on the way out of the room after he put the glass onto the table next to the armchair.

“Hey,” he said, still smiling to himself while leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

“Hey yourself,” Francis answered from the other side. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. And you?”

“You know I’m good,” he heard Francis rummage through something, probably he was cleaning his place while making the call. “Everything is going like you wanted?”

Will started to move upstairs, wanting to get out of reach of curious Lecter ears.

“Give me a moment, I can talk in a minute or two,” he said and held the phone down until he had reached the room that he shared with Hannibal, glad that his husband was nowhere to be seen. “It’s going okay I think. I’m good,” he then said after he closed the door behind him.

“How are you really, Will?”

He sat down at the edge of the soft bed that was perfectly made, rubbing his face.

“I’m stressed,” he replied. “I’m terribly stressed. I’m starting to think that this was a really bad idea.” Again, Francis was moving something like the scratching sound in Will’s ears let him know.

“Are you moving furniture?” He asked, and Francis laughed.

“I am,” he said. “How do you know?”

“It sounds like you’re dragging a tree trunk behind you.”

“Nah, just moving the dining table,” Francis gave back. “Why do you think this was a bad idea.

You sounded so certain about this trip.”

“I was. I mean, I am. But this is like returning to a life that ended. I feel like a zombie here, they all pretend nothing happened, like I…well, you know? And I can sense them tiptoeing around me. I wish they would just tell me the truth and blame me and yell at me and whatever, instead of this make-believe.”

“Maybe they don’t blame you. Ever thought about that?”

“I killed a member of their family, Francis,” Will whispered. “I killed her and there is nothing I can do about that.”

“Maybe that is what they are thinking too, Will. Everyone knows that the past cannot be changed.

And maybe they have come to terms with that, only you and Hannibal have not, it seems.”

“They are only pretending, Francis,” Will insisted. “I can’t wait to get out of here in a few days. I can’t wait to get back.”

Francis sighed.

“I can’t convince you otherwise. I just wish you would stop blaming yourself like that.”

Will remained silent for a moment, unsure what to reply, and laid down on the bed.

“So, what are you wearing?” Francis then asked, trying to light up the mood and made Will laugh.

“What is this? Phone sex?”

“Would you like that?”

Again, Will laughed.

“Not really. At least not now and not while I’m here.

“I get that,” Francis said. “So, tell me. How are things with Hannibal? And don’t lie to me.”

Will sighed.

“Not good,” he said, his voice growing thinner. “Nothing changed to be honest. We don’t talk, we don’t interact. We don’t even really co-exist. It’s like…I don’t know…like I don’t exist anymore at all. Like there’s only a him, a me, but no us anymore. Which should not be a surprise.”

“No, you should not be.”

“I just want this to be over.”

“Has he signed the papers yet?”

“If he did I would already be out of here,” Will said. “No, he will sign it when we leave or when we return to Baltimore.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“He’s a man of his word,” Will replied with a frown. “He would not do that after he made the deal.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Then trust me.”

He could almost hear Francis think over the distance, knowing he was upset and not believing that Will felt anything for him, not when he still kept distance to him in so many things.

“Please, Francis. Trust me.”

“I do,” the other man returned. “I just don’t like you hurting yourself. I want…”

Francis hesitated.

“What do you want, Francis? Tell me.”

He heard a deep breath.

“I want you. That’s all want. I love you and I don’t want to lose you. But I also want you to be happy and to smile again.”

“I do smile right now because I hear your voice,” Will said, indeed smiling.

He heard Francis laugh shortly.

“You sound tired.”

Will nodded to himself.

“I am. Didn’t get sleep last night.”

“You share a bed?”

“We share a room. Hannibal’s family doesn’t know about our problems, we have no choice.”

“I don’t like that.”

“Do you think I like it? Being in the same room as him?”

“I guess not,” Francis said. “You should try to get a little sleep now. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Francis. So much;” Will said, his voice shaking a little. “I talk to you soon.”

Will ended the call and put his phone on the nightstand, remaining to lay on the side and look out of the window, watching the clouds, not noticing the world around him, his mind and soul exhausted.

His mind went back to Murasaki’s words.

We once were family to you.

Tears rose up in his eyes and while trying to force those tears away, Will did not notice that he had not closed the door to the room completely.

He did not notice that Hannibal stood outside the room, one hand on the doorknob but frozen in his movement when he had heard that his husband was talking to someone.

And he did not know that Hannibal had heard him tell another man that he missed him.


	9. Chapter 9

The birthday party had already started when Will went down the stairs the evening of the next day.

Dressed in his black suit and a dark green shirt underneath that brought out his eyes, the curls halfway tamed, he looked his best in a long time. He even had put on some of the fragrance that he had started to use years ago after Hannibal had given it to him as a present and then had stopped using it when they had drifted apart. The only jewelries he wore were his watch and his wedding band that he still rarely took off. He felt naked when the simple gold band was not on his finger, and he had not spent a day since Hannibal had put the ring there without it. His best shoes were polished, and he tried to remind himself that he was still part of this family, even if he did not believe in that himself, and that he had a place in this house while the many people that had come to celebrate Robert’s birthday were strangers.

He had the habit of hiding behind his glasses, but he had left them today in their case. Something had made him want to look his best, and the selection of shirts and the two suits that Hannibal had packed for him had surprised him. Hannibal has a special taste in fashion, with his plaid suits and the tendency for unexpected colors, and he had often tried to convince Will to be a little more daring himself, but the only this that Will ever had agreed upon were more colorful shirts with simple suits which suited him much better and did not feel like a costume on him. Hannibal had always complimented him when he wore blues and greens, and that he had packed the black and the dark gray suits he owned with four shirts to pick from which were all in that color palette was a surprise. He had expected Hannibal to just pull the first thing he got his hands on from his closet and not something that he had put thought into.

Mischa looked up from a conversation with two women that Will had never met before and smiled when he came down the stairs. His sister-in-law was wearing a tight, sleeveless black dress with a shiny top and a long flowing skirt, the long blond hair combed back, and she was as gorgeous as she had always been.

She reached out with a hand when he was coming closer and pulled him into a half-hug and kissed his cheek with a pleased smile.

“Will,” she said, having always refrained from using the unloved nickname she had given him when strangers were around. “You look beautiful.”

“Says the most beautiful woman in the room,” he smiled.

“Oh, you haven’t seen Chiyoh yet,” she said and turned back to the two women who were looking at the new arrival with curiosity. “Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Bacchi, let me introduce my brother-in-law, William Lecter,” she introduced him.

Will smiled at the two women.

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” one of them said.

“Oh, he’s Hannibal’s husband,” the other said, smiling. “What a lucky man.”

“Who of them?” Mischa asked with a wink.

“Considering how beautiful both of them are,” the woman with the olive skin, probably Mrs.

Bacchi said. “I’d say both of them.”

Will laughed, even though he did not like being in the center of attention like this, being assessed by two women who checked out his body like he was for sale.

“I will give the compliments to my husband,” he said, already knowing that he would never have the chance to laugh with Hannibal about this encounter.

He kissed Mischa again on a cheek and started to mingle with the other guests, feeling out of place but knowing that he had to attend this at least for a while. The Lecters knew how he felt about parties and large gatherings and they would forgive him if he left before the party was over.

When the sound of metal against glass filled the room, the chatter stopped and the guests gathered in the salon, where he found Hannibal standing in the center. His husband looked gorgeous in the dark purple suit he had chosen, which was perfect for his skin tone and made him look like the elegant and well-dressed man he had always been.

Mischa went to stand next to Will, hooking on arm under his and leaning a little against him, and he noticed that Chiyoh was standing on the other side of her wife, wearing a pure white evening suit.

Hannibal smiled, holding a glass of red wine in his hands.

“When I was twelve, Uncle Robert was a stranger to me. I had met him two or three times throughout my still young life, my parents did not speak good about my father’s rebellious and inappropriate brother who chose to live his own life away from the things that came back then with being a Lecter. So, when my parents died, I was sure that me and my sister,” he started his speech, shortly looking at Mischa, who returned his smile. “Were left without a family. That we were orphans without the happy future I had imagined for us. But this man,” He raised his glass in direction of Robert who was standing a few meters away from Hannibal, Murosaki at his arm. “This man did not hesitate to take in two children he did not know. Scared children and confused children who were taken from their home, their country, and their parents by a cruel twist of fate. He gave us a home. He gave us a family. And he gave us more love than we had ever known from our own parents. A stranger. This is the man, Count Robert Lecter is. The man whose birthday we are celebrating today and who most of you know as a vicious adversary in business matters, who you know as being stoic and emotionless. I know him as my uncle. Like the father I have lost too early,” Hannibal’s voice trembled to Will’s surprise. “As the man who is able to love more than any other man I have met in my life. I am giving you my promise that I will strive to live in your example, that I will never stop wanting to make you proud and that I will be here for every birthday to come. May it be many more.” A tear ran down Hannibal’s cheek, and Will fought with himself to not run to his side and hold his hand. “To Robert Lecter,” he said, raising his glass. “Happy birthday. I love you.”

For a moment, Will thought Hannibal’s eyes had flicked towards him, but he was looking at his uncle, who smiled brightly, and still his eyes were shining wet with tears at his nephew’s words.

Giving his wife a kiss, he left her side and went to Hannibal and hugged him tightly, saying something in their native tongue that would remain only between them, holding each other while the people surrounding them cheered their own birthday wishes and ignored the world around them.

Hannibal’s smile seemed a little helpless when Robert separated from him and took a sip of the wine, while Robert turned around, still smiling, addressing his guests himself, but Will did not listen. Instead, he watched Hannibal standing there, on his own, and looking a little lost until he turned his gaze to Will and they were looking into each other’s eyes. Will expected a smile. A gesture, something. But instead, Hannibal turned around to talk to someone who had approached him and did not acknowledge Will’s presence in any way.

Robert had moved to the neighboring room and had started to open presents, which he had only accepted from close friends and family, having demanded that everyone else made donations to charities of his choice and everyone who knew Robert knew to better not ignore his wishes.

Will felt bad for not having gotten him anything, not having had the time for that with being taken by surprise with the trip.

Still, Will went to watch the man who had long become a father figure also to him, watched him praise an expensive watch he had gotten from his business partner, and the painting of his favorite artist from Mischa and Chiyoh. Murasaki had gotten him a vacation to a secret destination which brought a grin to his face and Will had the feeling there was more to that present, and then opened another one. Robert opened a simple yet elegant card and smiled.

“From my boys,” he said, making Will frown. “Hannibal and his Will.”

Will’s brows shot up and he looked for Hannibal, who had entered the room as well but had been ignoring him still. Now though, Hannibal looked at him and gave him a short nod.

Robert gasped, looking into the parcel he had just opened.

“Hannibal,” he whispered. “Will.”

“Happy birthday, Uncle Robert.”

Hannibal’s uncle pulled out something that looked like it was nothing, and Will noticed several of the guests frown at an old and ratty looking teddy bear. Will looked in surprise at Hannibal, while Robert got up and went to his nephew and gave him a kiss, the tears in his eyes very visible, before he turned and walked over to Will and kissed him as well. He did not need a word to show what this meant to him, smiling with teary eyes, touching Will’s cheek.

“Happy birthday,” Will said, smiling himself before Robert turned to take care of the remaining presents, and Will took the opportunity to walk over to Hannibal.

His husband only looked shortly at him.

“Is that?”

“It is the toy he owned when he was a child,” Hannibal said, still watching his uncle.

“But how did you get that? You said everything from his childhood was lost when we tried to get something for his 70th birthday.”

Hannibal now looked down at Will.

“I managed to get hold of his nanny’s family through a contact in Lithuania. She had taken a few things from the castle.”

“Do you have more?”

“I have a box at home with some belongings of my parents, but this was the only thing from Robert’s childhood.”

“You could have given him a heart attack.”

“It would have been worth it.”

Will smiled and nodded, wanting to say something else, but Hannibal turned to leave.

“Excuse me,” he said and left Will standing there.

Will went to get himself something to eat from the generous dinner buffet that a catering service had provided and that was so manifold that even Hannibal would be pleased with it. After putting together a small plate with some lamb and a salad and getting himself a glass of red wine, Will went to the terrace to eat, but even the perfectly prepared food tasted stale in his mouth. Even with being welcomed, with people that said they loved him, he felt out of place.

Carrying his wine back inside, he went to watch guests and hosts interact for a while and then went to find Robert and Murasaki, but before he could tell them that he would return to his and Hannibal’s room, he heard music from the large room where he knew a dancing area had been set up and went, feeling a sudden flash of curiosity, into the room and stopped dead in his track at the side of the dancefloor where several couples were swirling around in a waltz.

He frowned and then his mouth went dry.

Hannibal was dancing, as graceful and nimble as he had always been on the dancefloor, something that Will had always admired and had the joy to experience at Hannibal’s side when they had turned heads as a gay couple dancing together at conservative events. But that was not what had made Will’s stomach turn. It was the blonde woman in Hannibal’s arms, her eyes looking deep into Hannibal’s, beautiful, lithe, and moving as perfect as Hannibal did. Will’s heart started to beat faster, and one of his hands balled into a fist.

“Will?” Mischa said next to him. “Are you okay?”

He did not look at her, instead, he continued to stare at his husband and the woman that made the Lithuanian surgeon smile like he had not smiled in three years, a smile he was not able to direct at him anymore.

Pure anger rose in him.

“Is that fucking Bedelia?”

“Will…,” Mischa said, but Will interrupted her.

“What the fuck is she doing here?”

“Robert has been donating to the hospital, and they had some contact in the past year, so he invited her.”

Will pressed his lips together.

He had expected anything.

He had not expected to see Hannibal smile happily – happily! – at the medical director of the hospital he was working for, at the woman who had been his lover before he had met Will and who had always made clear that she was sure that Hannibal would one day be hers again.

“Excuse me,” he said loud enough for Hannibal to hear him just the moment the dance ended and he had Bedelia tipped down.

Hannibal looked up and saw how Will downed the rest of his red wine.

Will turned and left.

He did not want to, but on the stairs, he started to run and let finally the door of the room he shared ironically with Hannibal slam shut with a loud bang.

He ripped the jacket off himself and threw it into the room, running both hands through his hair, noticing how he was shaking, how he was not able to hold back tears, not able to understand his own reaction.

He was fucking Francis, for God’s sake. He was sleeping with a gentle and kind man who was in love with him. And here he was, upset because his husband, who he was cheating on for the past months, was dancing with his ex.

What the hell was wrong with him?

“Will?”

He looked up and saw Hannibal standing in the door. His jaw moved and he shook his head.

“What is wrong?” His husband asked and took his jacket off himself, closing the door behind him, but he did not turn on the lights, the party lights from outside giving enough light away so they could see each other.

Again, Will shook his head, not able to put his emotions into words. He was feeling something between desperation and anger, something between fear and pain. He felt so empty, so lost. So alone. So enraged.

“Are you fucking her?”

Hannibal frowned.

“I beg your pardon?”

Will made a step towards him.

“I think you heard me,” he snarled. “Are you fucking Bedelia?”

Hannibal’s left eye twitched.

“I don’t think you have the right to ask that.”

“I am your fucking husband!” Will yelled. “I have every right to know who you bed.”

“You have stopped being my husband the day you decided to let Francis Dolarhyde fuck you,”

Hannibal snapped back. “A man who had been guest at our table.”

Will pushed against Hannibal’s chest, made his husband move a step backward, his eyes dark in anger, in pain. They stared at each other.

“He does not fuck me,” Will whispered. “He never fucked me.”

Suddenly, Will felt the urge to touch Hannibal’s cheek, his brows knit together, fighting back the feeling of defeat, not wanting to allow himself to feel this.

“Mielasis,” Hannibal whispered and Will shuddered at the pet name he had not heard in three years before Hannibal lowered his head to seal Will’s lips with his own.


	10. Chapter 10

The first kiss they shared after years was hungry and intense, like two starving men trying to feed the hunger that would secure their survival. Their teeth clicked against each other, hard and for a moment Will thought that he might have lost a tooth, but then Hannibal licked into his mouth and Will felt his knees give in. Nothing tasted like his husband on his tongue, nothing could have prepared him for this sudden, unexpected intensity that he could not fight any longer.

But he had no choice but to push Hannibal away, making the same moment a step back to bring distance between them, but Hannibal, lips red and wet, looked at him like a lion would look at his prey.

Hannibal made a step forward, Will made a step back.

Then another.

And another.

The back of Will’s legs met the edge of the bed and he raised a hand to make Hannibal stop, but instead, he found himself grabbing Hannibal’s shirt and pulled him against himself with abrupt force and Hannibal pulled him the same moment against him and they resumed the kiss they had stopped only seconds ago. Will moaned into Hannibal’s mouth, clinging to him, trying to hold himself on his feet by grabbing Hannibal’s arms and returned the kiss as they had never stopped kissing and desiring each other in the past years, and for a moment the past did not exist and they were only Hannibal and Will, husbands, best friends, lovers.

But they were not.

Will twisted himself out of Hannibal’s arms, shaking his head.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, turning his back on Hannibal and making two steps. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Hannibal asked.

Will turned back around.

“Because you don’t love me anymore,” he said.

“But Francis loves you?”

Will closed his eyes for a second, forcing the tears to go away.

“Yes. Yes, he does.”

Hannibal nodded.

“And do you love him?”

Will rubbed a hand over his face that was starting to be wet with tears. He slowly nodded.

“You’re my husband,” Hannibal said. “You are married to me.”

“Not much longer,” Will gave back. “Not much longer, Hannibal.”

Again, Hannibal stared at him, the maroon eyes Will once had fallen in love with set on Will’s blue-green ones. The older man showed no emotion. Nothing. But then, his lips curled into the hint of a snarl, and then Hannibal moved so fast that Will had no chance to react when Hannibal grabbed the back of his neck and turned him with a rough movement around.

Will gasped when he landed face-first on the bed, his face pressed into the duvet by Hannibal’s hand in his hair, and he felt Hannibal press against the back of his body, felt how he was pressing his groin against Will’s ass, felt the hardness of the other man’s cock which surprised him and sent a shiver or sudden arousal threw his body.

“Han,” he whispered into the fabric underneath him but a shove of Hannibal’s hips against his body left no doubt that Hannibal wanted him silent, and he complied, feeling how one of Hannibal’s hands moved between them and he nestled at his pants, probably opening them.

Will started to pant in anticipation and the Hannibal pulled at the waistband of Will’s trousers and pulled them down without preamble.

Cold air hit Will’s now exposed behind and Hannibal’s left hand, while the right was still hold down his head, securing that he could not fight back, went to touch the firm globes of his ass. A flutter of arousal rose in his stomach, moved to his cock and he felt himself getting hard, while Hannibal moved two fingers into his crack, only touching his hole. Something wet met his skin, and Will knew, remembered from the past, that Hannibal was using his spit to rub into his rim.

Will was aware that there would be no skillful foreplay. That there would be no gentle kisses, touches, no hour-long fingering him open until he would beg for Hannibal’s cock, drenched in sweat and filled with need. There would be none of the things he and Hannibal had shared in the past, there would be no lovemaking. Instead, there would be something else. Something feral, ferocious, something that would stop his heart and mind and reduce him to a being of desire and wanton lust.

He closed his eyes, his breath stuttering, when he felt the tip of Hannibal’s hard cock pressing against him, and then, without having him prepared, raw and brutal, Hannibal pressed himself into his body.

Will held his breath, bit his lower lip, trying to stop himself from screaming in welcome agony, tears streaming down his face, onto the bed, overwhelmed with the closeness of the man he had married all those years ago. The man he had lost.

Hannibal did not wait until Will had accommodated to his girth, instead he started immediately to fuck him with deep, intense thrusts, with the intensity that only he was capable of. His hands held now Will’s narrow hips, holding him down while he fucked him open without mercy until the body beneath him had given up the last bit of resistance and his thrusts were accepted easier and easier.

He lowered himself until his body covered Will’s, and he kissed the back of his neck, licking a stripe up the spot he knew drove Will crazy with lust.

“Han,” Will whispered beneath him, more a moan than a sound.

Their bodies rocked together with the hard, uncompromising thrusts Hannibal gave Will, pushing his own hard cock every time uncomfortably against the edge of the bed.

When Hannibal raised to stand up, not missing a beat and continuing in to fuck into Will, he took finally off his shirt and returned immediately to press Will down again, a hand in Will’s curly hair and holding him down in a forceful grip. He went to kiss Will’s neck, then sucked at his earlobe, which made Will shudder.

Will’s hands had grabbed the bedding, the knuckles of his hands turning white at the cramped grip his used, while Hannibal was now balls deep inside him. He felt every vein, every inch of his husband’s manhood, felt filled to the limit like he had not been filled in the past three years, nothing having entered him since Hannibal but his own fingers, not able to give his body over to anyone else after he had been loved by him. Will sobbed into the duvet, unable to control his emotions that were in an uproar a second longer, all the pain and sadness of the past three years coming to the surface without a warning, while Hannibal himself lost all control of his usually so guarded self.

Will moaned at his husband fucking him so loud that he was certain that every guest in the house could hear him, and he did not care. They all could hear him, they all should hear him being taken by his husband, they all could know that he was submitting completely and allowed him being ravaged.

Before he knew what happened, Hannibal had pulled him up to stand in front of the bed with him, still deep inside him but without moving much for a moment. Will arched his back and leaned the back of his head against Hannibal’s shoulder, his ass pressed firmly back against his groin, welcoming to be still filled. Hannibal’s strong hands, those hands that once massaged the tension out of his shoulders, that caressed and reassured him, now ripped open the shirt with one powerful pull, and Hannibal pulled the shirt off Will’s shoulders and threw it away somewhere into the room. His hands roamed over Will’s body, teased his nipples and went over his flat belly and down to his erect cock, took it into his hands, and pulled a few times, making Will roll back his eyes in his head and gasp once more.

Hannibal turned him in his arms, only shortly pulling out and pushed him onto his back, and a second later he was on top and inside of him again. Instinctively, Will pulled up his legs, bending himself in half, while Hannibal started again to fuck into him, deep and without mercy. With each thrust, Hannibal shoved Will farther onto the bed, until they had moved away from the edge.

Their eyes met, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, both looking at each other like they had not seen each other in all this time, recognizing someone that had been missing from their lives until now.

Hannibal’s movements became even more forceful, fucking into Will with a desperation that seemed almost inhuman, holding his head in both hands, while Will was clinging to him with arms and legs, his hands on Hannibal’s back, holding him close as if he wanted him to melt into his body, becoming one.

Will’s right hand moved between them, getting hold of his own cock and started to jerk himself in the same rhythm as Hannibal moved into him. Hannibal looked down between them, eyes on Will’s gorgeous cock, as perfect as the rest of him, like a renaissance painting. Will’s eyes were shut, his whole body straining and covered in sweat, the skin covered in goosebumps and shaking in tremors of arousal while Hannibal pulled out almost all the way only to shove himself back into his tight heat, each time sending another tremor over Will, who long had lost command over any of his senses. He opened his eyes when something touched his hand and when he looked down into the cavity between their bodies, he saw that Hannibal’s hand was wrapped around his own, jerking Will with him until Will pulled his hand away and allowed his husband to take over. Hannibal’s thumb circled the sensitive tip, touching his slit and caused him to leak more precum, dripping onto his belly and leaving no doubt about the level of arousal he found himself in.

Suddenly Hannibal pulled out of him, leaving his hole empty and fluttering as if his body was begging to be filled again, and Will looked panting how Hannibal lowered his head and took his shaft into his mouth.

“Oh God,” he moaned, his hand moving into Hannibal’s soft hair, holding him and succumbing into the feeling of Hannibal’s tongue on his skin, and then gasped for air when he licked off the drips of cum from him and sucked eagerly at his tip as if he was nursing off him. Will felt like his brain was sucked out of him, and part of him was almost happy when Hannibal stopped and moved up his body again to re-enter him and started to fuck him again.

Hannibal’s lips became one with his, and he tasted himself on his husband’s lips and tongue, something they had always gladly shared, something that spoke of no limits, of no reservations between them.

Will pressed at Hannibal’s shoulders, and he got the hint and moved with Will in his arms until he was on his back and Will on top of him, never losing the connection between them, their bodies have become one again.

Hannibal held Will’s hips when the younger man sat up, sinking down on him until his cock was buried as deep as humanly possible in him, his balls flush against Will’s ass.

For long seconds, Will stopped all movement and looked down at the man beneath him, his red lips and flushed cheeks, the lust glazed eyes that were on him. His fingers grazed through Hannibal’s chest hair, having missed the feeling of the coarse hair under his fingertips, having missed all of this.

Then, Will started to ride him hard, with rotating hips, taking Hannibal with each movement deep inside himself, tilting his pelvis and the moment Hannibal connected with his prostate, Will could not hold back the scream that escaped his throat, his whole body arched back and his cock again leaking. Every time Will pushed downwards, Hannibal pushed downwards, making them being hardly able to stand the intensity of their physical union. Moans and the sound of their flesh filling the room, forgetting the world around them.

Hannibal pulled Will down into his arms, their hips still moving, their whole bodies pressed against each other. His right hand moved down Will’s ass, and two of his fingers teased again his rim where his own cock was connected to him, now and then pushing the tip of one finger alongside into Will, whose eyelids fluttered at the intrusion.

“Will,” Hannibal whispered at Will’s ear, warm breath meeting his skin, then licking his ear, which was another spot on Will’s body where he was able to take more control from him with a simple touch.

Again, their lips met. The kiss, wet and greedy, not getting enough of the other’s taste on their skin, not getting enough of the feeling of being consumed.

They held each other still close when Hannibal again started to push upwards with powerful thrusts, making Will again gasp and bite his neck and jaw, then returning to kiss again, until his thrusts became irregular and Will felt how Hannibal was nearing his climax and feeling himself that he was not far behind.

He though was surprised when the moment that Hannibal flooded his insides with his searing seed, he came himself between them, his cock pulsating with his climax without being touched, just released by the emotion and strength of the fusion of their bodies and souls.

Hannibal held Will. Held him close, held him tight, both their bodies trembling in the aftershocks of their orgasms until Will let himself roll off him and he remained lying next to Hannibal on his back.

What had he done?

What had he allowed himself to do and feel?

This trip should have been the end and not another tick on the long list of disasters that his life had become.

He did not want to feel this.

He did not want to be the man he had become. The shadow of the happy husband of this wonderful person he had never deserved.

He did not want to be hurt and destroyed again by abandonment and loneliness.

He did not want his heart ripped out and thrown onto the floor again.

Painful memories came back into his mind and Will forced himself to feel nothing.

It seemed to have taken an eternity until they had caught their breaths and senses, and it was Hannibal who was the first one to speak.

“Was it good to feel me?” Hannibal asked, his voice still shaking with emotion.

Will stared at the ceiling, unblinking, still trying to catch his breath.

“Good?” He whispered, then he hesitated, the feeling of pure terror rising in him, remembering all the pain of the past three years and he shook his head slowly. “No.”

The bed next to him moved, and he turned his head and saw Hannibal getting up, the toned and beautiful body on full display the way it had always been, Hannibal never having been ashamed to show himself in front of him.

“Hannibal?” Will whispered, raising up and watching where his husband was going.

Hannibal went to the side table and Will heard the rustling of paper.

His heart stopped.

“Hannibal?”

The other man turned around, holding a folder of papers in his hand, in the other a pen. Will shook his head.

This could not be true.

“What…?” He asked, his mind not willing to accept what had become terrible truth, his voice thin and shaking while he watched how Hannibal put the paper onto the table and put his wedding band on top of it before he went to the en suite bathroom and closed the door. While Will was still staring, gasping, he heard how the shower was turned on.

He got up with trembling legs, walking over to the table, looking down at what Hannibal had put there, already knowing what it was.

His whole body started to shake.

Hannibal had signed the divorce papers.

Will was free.

He did not know any longer if that was what he had truly wanted.

But it was too late.


	11. Chapter 11

Leaving the Lecter’s house the next day had taken place in something like a trance.

When Will got up after a sleepless night, the eyes red and swollen, while he could not remember if he had cried, Hannibal had already packed their suitcases and brought them to the car. Even Winston was already waiting in there.

Hannibal had told his family that they had to attend important appointments and had no choice but to leave in the early morning and without staying a day longer like originally had been planned.

The pain Will felt at parting was unbearable and it took all his strength to not burst into tears when the family that had claimed him as theirs hugged him goodbye, smiling, and telling him how good it had been to see him again, knowing he would never see them again, that last night he had stopped being a part of the Lecters. He had no idea how Hannibal would explain their separation, their divorce, to them. Would he tell them that they had already been at the point of breaking apart when they arrived and that Hannibal himself had finalized their divorce, had signed the papers that were as heavy as a brick? Or would he let them believe for a while longer that he and Will were in a relationship, a strained marriage, and then in a few weeks or months would make something about their divorce up?

It had been Mischa’s eyes when he had hugged her goodbye that had told him that his sister-in-law sensed that something else was going on, that something had shifted in the past night, and not for the better. There had been a silent question in them and then worry and sadness.

“I’m going to miss you, Willy,” she had whispered into his shoulder and he had squeezed her even tighter, fighting against the tears and wanting to never let go of her, who had been his friend and family since the day they had met. “Call me, okay?”

He had nodded, unable to say anything, and had gotten into the waiting car.

One last time he had waved goodbye, while Hannibal drove them away.

Drove him away from the only family he had ever known to love him.

Back into a life that had three years ago stopped to be his own.

And now here he was.

Sitting in the bedroom he had not set foot into for those past years, sitting at the edge of the bed he had not lain in since the night before the accident.

It felt so abstract that he had spent happy hours in here, in Hannibal’s arms, who had stopped wanting and loving him. Who had turned from his lover, best friend, husband into a stranger.

The tears had stopped days ago, and the only thing left behind was a nauseating headache and emptiness.

Will felt nothing.

No sadness.

No anger.

No loss, no fear, no pain.

He knew he would go on. Maybe move on. Maybe start over with a new life, but right now, he felt like a ghost. Like Will Lecter had seized to exist the moment Hannibal had put his signature on papers that he himself had provided, that he had once begged him to sign to end this farce of a marriage. And now he was no longer sure that that had been what he had truly wanted.

Maybe he had only wanted to get a reaction from him. But not the reaction he had gotten.

Everything was back to what it was before their trip.

They had not spoken a single word on the way back, with Hannibal driving and not taking a single break. He himself had leaned against the side window, staring onto the road and the passing trees and houses, praying silently that this all had to be a bad dream. He had prayed this one prayed endlessly for three years – urging fate to let him return to the morning before the accident, when he and Hannibal were happy together, laughing and kissing, and making plans for the Summer holiday.

Will smiled at the memory of that last morning. He had woken up snuggled against Hannibal’s shoulder, and smiled into his husband’s skin, pressing a kiss to the muscle and then looked up, seen Hannibal’s mussed hair and sleepy eyes that had already been watching him. The smile they had exchanged had been a knowing one, one of love, and that spoke of a connection that had stopped existing only hours later.

Why had life done this to him?

What had he done in a past life that he had to pay for those sins like this, with his happiness and the ability to breathe?

Will sighed, looking at his hands, where he still wore his wedding band. He had not yet had the strength to take the simple gold ring off, and he was not sure he would be able to in the near future.

Maybe one day as it was the memory of a life he had never dreamt of having before it happened and that now had become an unreal and distant thought.

After minutes he had sat there in silence and without moving a single muscle, he opened the nightstand on what had formerly been his side of the bed, and he frowned.

He had only meant to check if he had left there anything that was his to take away, but he had not expected to find the nightstand in the same state as he had left it three years ago. But on second look, it was not quite the same after all.

There was a box of ibuprofen, the same brand he had always used, but it was a new one. The date of expiry was still more than a year in the future and the box was unopened. New. Hannibal had changed the box that must have had expired a while ago against a new one.

There was a charger cable for his phone, rolled up neatly.

There was the silver butt plug that he had always preferred, polished and shiny. Another toy that was just the same impeccable state.

There was an unopened bottle of the lube Hannibal liked.

It looked like Hannibal had been waiting.

It looked like Hannibal had tried to hold onto a life that was no more.

For a moment, Will contemplated to take those things and leave the drawer behind empty, but they had no place in his new life.

Instead of taking any of those things out, he closed the drawer and balled his hands into fists, digging his nails into the palms of his hands, feeling again nauseous and numb.

“Will?”

Will looked up and suddenly felt a cold shiver run over his back.

Hannibal was standing in the doorway, still in suit and coat, the hair as neat as always.

The man who once had been his husband, a thousand years ago, looked tired but his eyes were stern, and looked straight at Will. He was so handsome, just as magical and handsome and fascinating as he had been that day they had met for the first time a lifetime ago. Will could not believe that he now would not be able to see him every day, a thought he had told Hannibal on the day they were married. I’m going to see you every day for the rest of my life.

“Hannibal,” Will only said and got up from the bed. “You’re early.”

Hannibal nodded once.

“The meeting was over earlier than we thought,” he said like it was information he wanted Will to know like they still shared their everyday lives and what happened at their workplaces. “You have packed.”

It was Will’s turn to nod.

“Yeah,” he whispered and started to walk towards the door that Hannibal was still blocking with his body.

Only centimeters before their chests could touch, Will stopped. He did not look up, only stood there waiting for Hannibal to move to the side and let him pass. But Hannibal did not make any move, standing there waiting for something to happen.

“You’re gonna let me through?” Will then asked.

Hannibal hesitated. Will noticed how Hannibal shifted from one foot to the other, and then he moved to the side, letting Will walk out of the bedroom.

Not giving Hannibal a second look, Will went downstairs and looked at the remaining cardboard boxes that held the rest of his things that he was taking with him, and for a moment he felt like just running away and not taking anything. No memories, no reminders of something he had lost forever.

“Will,” Hannibal said again, having followed him. “Can we talk?”

Now, Will turned around.

Hannibal was standing now at the bottom of the stairs, looking a little lost, but still without any sign of emotion on his face.

Will shook his head.

“It’s too late, Hannibal,” he whispered, pressing his lips together and forcing the tears that were rising again back. “It’s too late.”

Once again, Will felt like his knees would give out beneath him and he would any moment crumble to the floor, but he was able to keep himself standing and tried to not let show how upset he in fact was. Still, tears were clouding his eyes and he needed to open his lips to take a trembling breath.

Everything in him screamed, every cell of his body was still drawn to the other man. But that man did no longer want him.

“We could…,” Hannibal said, the voice a toneless whisper.

“No, Hannibal,” Will said. “We could not. We can never again.”

Oh God, it hurt so much.

This was what he had wanted, wasn’t it?

Why did it hurt so much if it was what he had wanted?

Will turned, but Hannibal took his shoulder into one of his hands and turned to face him.

He looked right into his eyes, looking for something. For an answer, for hope. But there was nothing but pain and defeat.

Hannibal took Will’s face into his hands and lowered his head, their foreheads almost touching, intimate and gentle.

Their lips where millimeters apart from each other, the breath of the other man on their skin, but there was an invisible barrier that stopped them from that last touch that may have had to power to change everything. A barrier that time and grief and agony had built.

Part of Will wanted Hannibal to just go and kiss him. To tell him he was still in love with him and that he regretted having signed the divorce papers, that he regretted that he was taking family, home, and the ability to breathe from him. But then, he had taken so much more from Hannibal. He had taken something from him that he would be never able to give back, that he would never be able to fix and repair so that Hannibal was able to forgive him and love him again as he had done.

He had lost him forever.

Both men frowned, the sadness that had consumed them almost physically present, but then Will turned his head and twisted out of Hannibal’s grip, unwanted tears escaping his eyes and running over his face.

“Give what I left behind to charity,” Will said and picked up the two boxes from the floor and went to the front door, where he shifted to dig for something in the pocket of his jeans. “I hope you will find happiness once again, Hannibal. I wish you to fall in love again, you deserve it. Please, be happy,” he whispered the voice heavy with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he added and then he put his keychain onto the small bowl on the side table next to the door, where he had put his keys every time.

Hannibal nodded but did not say anything, eyes on the keys

Attached to the several keys that belonged to this house, to this life, was a simple silver H, the twin to the W that was attached to Hannibal’s keys, and it felt like Will had left behind a piece of him.

He still stared at the keys when the door fell into the lock and Will had left the house that should have been their home.

The surgeon sat down on the stairs and buried his face into his hands, desperate sobs taking over his whole body, shaking him, and soon the empty hallway, the empty house was filled only by the sound of Hannibal crying, only allowing to let this weakness surface when he was on his own. Not wanting to witness anything how much he was suffering himself.

“Mielasis,” he whispered into his hands.

Finally, he had lost everything.

Finally, he was all alone.

Outside, Will carried to boxes to the other side of the street where a sleek black car was waiting for him, the things he had put inside, some items of clothing and a few books, heavier than their weight.

He put the boxes into the trunk and then took his seat next to the driver.

Francis took his hand into him, noticing how Will’s body was trembling, the pretty face covered in the wetness of tears while Will leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

“I’ve seen him go in,” Francis said, his small speech impairment a little stronger than usual due to him being upset himself with worry. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Will said, but then he shook his head, his lips a thin line, not daring to look at the other man. “No. I don’t know.”

Francis nodded.

“If he hurt you,” he said.

“He would never hurt me,” Will said quickly. “Hannibal never hurt me.”

“But he did,” Francis disagreed.

Will looked at him, understanding what Francis meant. And he was right. He had been hurt by

Hannibal’s actions of the past years, by the distance and walls he had built around himself, walls that Will had no chance of overcoming. But then, all that had been his own fault.

“I hurt him too,” he whispered, sniffing away a tear, guilt, and pain again present. “I hurt him beyond repair. God, it’s all my fault.”

“It’s not, Will,” Francis gave back, convinced of his own words.

The smile Will gave him was helpless and did not reach his eyes, and Francis knew that he did not believe him, was not able to, was too consumed by the darkness that was now constantly his companion.

“But it is,” he said, feeling suffocated by pain. “He’ll be able to move on now. He’s going to be better now.”

The pressure of Francis’ hand on his got stronger, trying to give him reassurance and confidence, but unable to reach him.

“You should get better as well, Will,” he said, clear worry in his voice.

Will nodded again after seconds.

“I will. One day,” Will said, squeezing Francis’s hand back before their touch separated and the other man started his car to take Will into his new life that was beginning today. “I’m sure I will.”

If only he could believe in those words as well.

If only he would be able to believe that a better time was starting today.

For seconds, Francis looked at him.

“I just hope you made the right decision,” he then said. “For both your sakes.”

Will looked out of the window, at the house that he had lived in and had been happy in, once upon a time, and sighed deeply.

“I hope that too.”

Somehow, this felt like the end.


	12. Chapter 12

“You look like shit,” a voice said from his left, making Will look up from the essays he was grading in one of the classrooms.

Beverly was leaning in the doorway, wearing her dark red leather jacket and the long black hair cascading over her shoulders, her trademark smirk on the lips.

“Well, thank you,” Will smiled back while writing a C on the paper he was just putting aside and taking the next one to read.

“No, seriously,” Beverly said and pulled a chair to sit down opposite him as soon as she had approached him. “You’re pale and you’re even more twitchy than you normally are.”

“I don’t think that twitchy and normal should go in the same sentence.”

“You are always twitchy, but in the last weeks you reached a whole new level of twitchiness.”

Will rolled his eyes and put his pen down for a moment to lean back in his chair.

“What’s wrong, Will?” Beverly, who had been his friend and coworker for several years, asked then, the voice lowered and clear worry in it.

He shook his head.

“I’m good,” he said. “I’ll be good.”

“Talk to me, Will,” she said. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Will nodded, but not keeping eye contact.

“Are we friends, Will?”

He looked up.

“We are.”

“Then talk to me,” Beverly said.

Will sighed and took a deep breath.

“Hannibal signed the divorce papers.”

Beverly remained silent for long seconds, staring a hole into Will, her lips pressed together to form a thin line.

“Shit,” she then hissed.

Will’s smile was helpless and looked more sad than friendly, the nod he gave her only the hint of a movement.

“How are you holding on?”

“Honestly?”

“Of course honestly, what do you think?”

Will chuckled.

“Hardly,” he then said. “I miss him so much, it’s not even funny anymore. I mean, we were separated while living in the same house for years, and now it feels so…so…I don’t know.”

“Final.”

He rubbed both hands over his face.

“Yeah, final.”

Beverly reached out with one hand and took his into hers, squeezing it in an encouraging gesture.

“You’ll be all right, Will,” she said. “You got friends. You have Francis.”

Will looked up and right at her.

“Well…,” he said.

“What?”

“I kinda broke up with Francis before I moved out.”

Beverly sighed loudly.

“Oh, Will,” she said. “I’m not going to say that I think it was a wrong decision, but…how did he take it?”

“We agreed to be friends, and I know I hurt him. But it’s not fair when I pretend that I one day will fall in love with him in the same way he is in love with me when I can’t forget Hannibal.”

He hated that fluttering feeling of sadness and of rising tears that came up every time he thought about his failed marriage and that he was all alone now.

“That’s not saying how Francis took it,” she insisted.

“He’s not happy, but he said he understands and that we can still hang out. I mean, we work together, and that’s awkward enough already as it is, a battlefield would not help either of us.”

“Sounds like Francis,” she nodded and then straightened her back. “So…what do you say, appletinis and hot wings with me, Jimmy and Zeller?”

Will smiled but shook his head.

“I have to take a raincheck on that. I already canceled on Francis and some Netflix. I’m going to give Alana a call and tell her that I’ll pick up Winston tonight after all instead of him staying there overnight, and then go home when I’m done with grading. I think I’d rather be alone tonight and just try to get some sleep. My head is killing me,” he said.

Beverly examined his face for a while and then nodded.

“If you change your mind, we’re hanging out at Ripper’s,” she said. “Zeller is so gone on Jimmy, it’s not even funny anymore.”

“I’d actually not seen Jimmy in ages,” Will said, remembering the quirky head nurse his husband…his ex-husband…was working with and that he had introduced to the science teacher a few years ago. “I’ll be there next time. Pinky promise.”

Beverly pointed a waving finger at him.

“I will remind you of that,” she smiled. “Come here, you idiot.”

She stood up and went around the table and when Will had gotten up himself, she pulled him into a tight hug.

“Let us be there for you, Will,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “That’s what friends are for.”

Will nodded again and attempted to smile.

“It’s going to get better,” he said. “It has to.”

Beverly returned the nod and then went back to the door.

“I see you tomorrow. I’m bringing donuts.”

Will laughed and sat back down.

“Don’t work too long, the weather is terrible today,” she said. “Night, Will.”

“Night, Bev,” he gave back and returned to grade the papers when his coworker and friend left.

He found himself unable to concentrate after having to read the same paragraph for the third time and put his pen finally down, rubbing his eyes that were already getting tired. Drinking too much, the lack of sleep and the heavy amount of tears he had spent in the past days were hard on him and taking their toll. He wished he could sleep for days, weeks, months, maybe forever. Because in his dreams he was still living his happy life with a happy home and family, with a man at his side who was still able to love him and look at him with a smitten smile instead of disgust and blame.

Sighing, he put the papers together and shoved them into the folder that he had open beside them, getting ready to leave for the evening and back home to the motel room where he and Winston lived in for the moment. Francis had offered them to stay, but he had declined, not wanting to make Francis hope for something that would never happen that he would be never able to give him. The sex with him had been good, satisfying on a physical level but had left him always empty inside, and it was not fair to his shy coworker. Francis deserved better and they had talked about it for hours. Francis had been left sad and heartbroken, but he also told him that he understood and would not blame him, that he would always continue being his friend.

Will looked down at the golden wedding band that he was still wearing. Every time he had taken it off, his hand had felt empty, and he put it back on. The heavy weight of a life that was no longer his, but he was still not able to let go completely. Maybe he should…

“Mister Graham?”

Will looked up in surprise.

“Abigail?” He asked, blinking. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“I…I wanted to talk to you? If that’s okay I mean? I could come back tomorrow, but I really don’t know what to do anymore,” she said, and Will got up to move towards her and lead the obviously trembling young woman to a chair and prompted her to sit down.

He pulled another chair close and sat down with her, taking both her hands into his.

“Abigail, what is wrong?” He asked. “You wanted to talk to me before the break, is this about the same thing?”

She nodded but did not dare to look up. Will noticed that she looked even paler than her light complexion already indicated, her eyes shifting and her lips trembling nervously.

“Abby,” he whispered, having not used the shortened name for years. “What is wrong?”

She looked up and searched for something in Will’s face and he saw that she was close to breaking down.

“My mom left,” she whispered. “She just left from one day to the other, didn’t even tell me that she was leaving us, and my dad…dad… he is…”

Tears were streaming down her face.

“I think he has done something to my mom, Mister Graham,” she said. “I think…I don’t know.”

Will nodded. He had met Abigail’s father before, on parent-teacher conferences, and when Abigail had been his step-daughters best friend. Garret Jacob Hobbs was a complicated man, possessive, and wearing the mask of someone who cared about his only child, but something was off about him that Will had never been able to put into words. Hobbs had been in verbal arguments with Abigail’s teachers before, always thinking they treated the silent girl wrong, and it had been

Beverly who had to call security last year when Hobbs had started to yell at her for giving Abigail only a B in economics.

“Does he hurt you, Abby?”

She looked at her hands that were still in Will’s.

“He…he only lets me out for school,” she whispered.

“What do you mean? Does he lock you in?”

She nodded.

“He locks me into my room when I come home and I am only allowed to the bathroom at scheduled hours, and before the break he…,” she took a breath and chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “He hit me, Mister Graham. And then he called me Louise and he…he…he tried to kiss me.”

Her voice had grown thinner with every word.

Will remained silent for a moment, holding her hands tight, trying to give her security.

“I have to ask this, Abby. Did he touch you or force you to do anything intimate?”

She shook her head.

“The moment he said the name he realized it was wrong, I mean I don’t even look like mom, but he is so weird lately, Mister Graham,” she said. “I’m scared.”

Will nodded.

“I understand, I absolutely understand that,” he said.

“When Simonetta was still alive, you and Doctor Lecter said I could always come to you if I ever need help, I know she’s gone, but I thought…”

“You are always welcome to come to either of us,” Will said. “And not only because I’m your teacher, but you’ve also always been something like a second daughter to us, you know that, Abby,” he explained and the smile she gave him was a little more natural and relaxed. “There’s been some changed with our life too recently, but that does not change that we care for you. I’m sure that Hannibal would say the same.” He said. “We…we’re not together anymore, we’re getting divorced.”

Abigail gasped.

“I…didn’t know,” she said. “I’m sorry. You always were so happy together.”

“We were, but things change,” Will smiled. “But, as I said, it does not change anything about us caring for you. I have to call CPS.”

To his surprise, Abby did not disagree and instead nodded, having expected that.

“They will bring you to a transient home, and they will talk to you and then also to your dad, with what you told me they will bring in the police too. If you want, I will be with you through it all, and if you want, I can give Hannibal, Doctor Lecter, a call and ask if he will support you as well. How does that sound?”

His smile was the attempt to being encouraging, and Abby tried to return it, but he could see the fear in her beautiful blue eyes.

“Terrifying,” she said. “But it gives me hope.”

Will nodded and then pulled out his phone and called the number of CPS that he had saved in his phone for emergencies and then gave Jack Crawford, the principal a short call too and told him they would talk about the issue tomorrow.

He waited with Abby until a social worker from CPS showed up and explained the situation. The friendly-looking lady reassured Abby that they would do anything in their power to protect her and help her to escape the toxic environment she was living in. She said that they would take Abby to a home, as he had assumed and that they would call the police from there. Will’s offer to join them was declined, obviously, they wanted to make sure that Will did not influence his student, but he assured Abby that he, and if he could make it possible also Hannibal, would visit her soon.

After they had left, Will packed his bag and went to the parking lot.

It had started to rain and the sun had gone down long ago, the light’s reflecting in the wet surfaces.

The only car on the lot was his silver Volvo and he unlocked the door from a distance with the transponder and shouldered his bag.

Suddenly there were steps behind him and he turned around, not only his hair but also his glasses wet from the rain, so that he at first could only make out someone coming towards him.

He frowned and squinted.

Then recognition hit him and he attempted a friendly smile.

“Hey,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

But the other did not reply, instead, there suddenly was a sharp pain in Will’s right side, something ripping into and then up him, and in a reflex, he moved his hand there.

When he raised it, his hand was red with his own blood.

His knees gave out beneath him and he fell to the hard, wet ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I obviously have no idea how CPS works, lets call it artistic license.


	13. Chapter 13

_“You’ve reached Will Graham-Lecter. I’m currently unable to take your call. Please leave a message after the signal and I will come back to you as soon as possible. Thanks.”_

Hannibal listened to the short beep that indicated that he would be allowed to leave a message for Will, but instead of doing so, he hung up. For the third time.

It really was stupid and immature that he found himself unable to reach out and try to talk to Will once more. Since he had moved out almost two weeks ago, he had not heard back from him and not knowing where he was, if he was doing okay, if he was as lonely and heartbroken as he was painful. Surely, Will was staying with his boyfriend, and Hannibal knew that Francis Dolarhyde, the almost shy and silent teacher with the melodic baritone voice, was a good match for Will. He hoped that Will now would find the happiness that he deserved, the happiness that he had not been able to give Will like he once had promised.

And still, he missed him.

Aware that their marriage had been at the end for a long time, that there had been hardly a chance of overcoming the distance that he had allowed to build between them, he still could not completely accept that it was over now.

He had failed their marriage. He had failed their family. He had failed Will. And he had failed Simonetta.

Hannibal sighed and closed his eyes, tired after another night with less sleep than he needed to function throughout a productive day. It had been himself who had asked for a meeting with Bedelia and Chilton, dealing with the unpleasant topic of Anthony Dimmond who again had violated hospital rules and not shown to his scheduled surgery that Hannibal himself, Sutcliffe, and in one case Chilton himself had taken over. Chilton had been furious and it was the perfect moment to ask for this meeting. He though had not expected that Chilton had invited him and Bedelia for a breakfast meeting in the early hours.

They had already discussed Dimmond’s fate for an hour when Chilton had needed to take an important call and had asked for a short break, which Hannibal had tried to use to make a call to Will, and then had not enough courage to make the call after all.

Here he was, a middle-aged successful surgeon, too scared to make a simple call to the man he had married.

He sighed again and redialed Will’s number, listened again to the text that Will had spoken to his voicemail.

Again, he waited until he heard the beep and then took held his breath for a few seconds.

“Will, it’s me, Hannibal,” he said. “I would like to talk to you, in person. I think we…I mean I might made a mistake. I…I’m an idiot, and I…miss you. I’m aware it maybe is too late to go back but, Will…Mielasis…I…I still love you. I am not wanting to pressure you in any way, I just want a chance to talk to you. Please, Mielasis. Give me a call if you like. I will be waiting.”

He ended the call and took another deep breath, continuing to look out of the window.

It had not stopped raining since yesterday, and he was certain that the sky mirrored his mood once again.

He even missed that terrible, smelling and dirty animal that Will had brought into their house and that followed him like a shadow while eyeing Hannibal suspicious and still with curiosity.

Winston had become a fixture in the house in that short time he had spent there, and even Hannibal with his animosity towards those animals that his whole family loved had to admit he was well-behaved and nice company.

If only…

“Hannibal.”

He turned and looked at the beautiful woman that Bedelia was, sophisticated, elegant and always in control. Something he had admired in her, long ago, before he realized that there was something missing in his life, something that only that young teacher he had met had been able to provide.

“Bedelia,” he gave back.

“Why did you not come to me first regarding Anthony?”

Hannibal looked surprised at her and his head moved a little to the side.

“Why would I have done that? You have made very clear in the past that you are going to protect your protégé no matter what,” he said. “Anthony has made not only one mistake. He is unreliable and a liability. I do not know what you see in him.”

“He is a wonderful surgeon, Hannibal, you have to admit…”

“I will not admit anything. I have hardly seen him in the operating theater, not even when he was scheduled for surgery. Besides, he strangely calls in sick every time he is scheduled for either late shifts or for ER work,” Hannibal said. “He is a liability we cannot afford if we want to maintain the reputation that our surgical ward has.”

“I fear I have to agree with Hannibal, Bedelia,” Chilton said, having stepped closer to them after having ended his call. “Please lets resume the meeting,” he said and gestured towards his office again, where the three of them went and took their seats at Chilton’s desk. “The call I made was with Sutcliffe, and he agrees on everything with Hannibal. Before I make a decision, I will have to review Dimmond’s files, but until that, I will have to suspend him.”

“Frederic,” Bedelia said, obviously upset. “That is a mistake, and I want my opinion to be noted.”

“It will be, Bedelia,” Chilton added. “I want you and Dimmond at 2 pm in my office for a further review. Hannibal, if possible I would like you to join as well.”

Hannibal nodded.

“I will have to check my schedule, but if possible I will attend.”

“That would be preferable,” the medical director of the hospital said. “If what you and Sutcliffe have reported is reflected in Dimmond’s files, this is a situation that is unacceptable for the hospital, Bedelia. You are aware of the demand we have at our staff.”

Bedelia’s lips had turned into a thin line, her anger clearly visible, never having been able to be the one defeated.

“That would be all for now,” Chilton said and nodded.

Hannibal returned the nod and got up, leaving the office and stating his way to the stairway to return to his own office.

“Hannibal, wait a moment,” Bedelia called behind him.

He turned around and looked at the blonde woman who had followed him.

“I wanted to talk to you for a moment, about something private;” she said and put on a smile that she wore like an expensive fragrance. “It was nice to meet you on Robert’s birthday party and to share a dance. A shame that you left so suddenly.”

Hannibal frowned at her.

“I don’t see why me attending the party would have been a surprise since it was my uncle’s birthday party,” he said. “Will was feeling unwell and we retreated early.

Again her lips turned into a line.

“Will,” she said. “Of course. How is the husband? I heard he moved out?”

A muscle in Hannibal’s jaw moved.

“Where did you hear that?”

She shrugged almost casually.

“Hospital gossip,” she only said. “So it’s true? You separated?”

“We are taking a break. The past years have not been easy for us.”

Bedelia nodded and put a hand on Hannibal’s forearm.

“If you ask me, it was about time,” she said. “That twitchy little man has never been a good match for you.”

“I do not think that you are in a position to be the judge of that, Bedelia. What Will and I share is a very deep bond, and we have from the beginning.”

“And look where you are now, Hannibal,” she said softly. “I really wish you would have given us a chance. But now that your boy is gone, we could go to a dinner date sometime.”

Hannibal tilted the head to the side.

“My husband moved out not even two weeks ago, and you are already trying to return to my bed?”

“If I have a chance,” she smiled seductively.

“I…,” Hannibal started, but before he could continue, his pager went off and he looked at it, hoping silently that Will had tried to reach him, but instead he saw Jimmy’s ID and the demand for him to come immediately to the ER.

Hannibal looked at the pager in surprise, an unwell feeling starting in his stomach.

“I’m needed in the ER, excuse me,” he told Bedelia and turned towards the elevator and found his way to the ground floor, the feeling in his stomach growing stronger and stronger with each second, and cumulating in nausea as soon as he left the elevator and was met with the chaos that came with the ER at every time of day.

He looked around and finally found Jimmy at the back, close to the doors. His steps towards his preferred nurse were fast, knowing that Jimmy would have not paged him if this was not an issue of importance.

“What happened?” Hannibal asked and was met with a worried and almost scared look on Jimmy’s face.

“I’ve paged Doctor Chilton as well,” Jimmy said before he continued. “It’s…Hannibal, it’s Will.

They are bringing him in.”

Hannibal’s heart stopped and before he could inquire further, the doors were pushed open from the outside, and a gurney was brought inside by a team of paramedics. One was holding a drip and another was holding a breathing machine to the face of the patient on the gurney. Hannibal only saw dark curls and a pale body, a shirt that was torn open in the paramedic’s attempt to provide first aid to a wound.

His stomach turned. He would recognize that skin, those curls everywhere. But there was no time to be emotional. Not now. He touched the younger man who was unconscious and still fighting for his life, the man who he might never be able to tell what he felt for him. Will. His Will.

Hannibal shut out all his emotions and put on the cold mask that the people who knew him were used to see when he did not allow him to be anything but professional, while it often scared strangers because to them he seemed like a robot without feeling and empathy.

“What is the status?” He asked and approached the gurney, taking the clipboard from one of the paramedics, having a first look at the notes they had put on there.

“Male, mid to late thirties, has a deep abdominal wound. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

Hannibal turned to Jimmy.

“I want you, Frankie, Franklyn. Get Sutcliffe to assist,” he said, the voice cold and controlled.

“What are you…?” Jimmy asked, surprised, the eyes wide.

“I’m going to operate,” he only said. “Get him ready.”

“I can’t allow that,” Chilton said, having joined them without any of them noticing. “I can’t allow you to operate on a family member.”

Hannibal turned around and looked at Chilton, who was standing there, the eyes on Will, who was covered in blood and only breathing because one of the paramedics was still pumping air into his lungs.

“I’m the best surgeon available,” Hannibal said. “There is no time to discuss this, Frederic.”

Chilton considered his words for a moment, and then he nodded.

“Are you certain? After what happened with Simonetta?”

Hannibal stared at him and then looked at his hands, Will’s blood on his fingers from where he had touched his ice-cold skin.

“I am certain,” he then said. “I am certain.”

Chilton looked at him for a moment and then nodded and stepped aside, but instead of only letting the gurney and the accompanying people pass, he joined Hannibal in hurried steps.

“Forget Sutcliffe,” he told Jimmy who was running behind them while holding his cell phone to his ear, getting Hannibal’s team together already. “I’m going to assist myself.”

Jimmy had made a call to get Freddie and Franklyn to the operating room and they both were quickly briefed on what happened. So far they only knew that Will had been stabbed and had lain the whole night on the ground in the rain. He had vitals that were hardly there, his blood pressure had dropped dangerously, and his pulse was low.

It was Chilton who watched Hannibal wash his hands and then stepped closer, both already in their scrubs. The two men never had been true friends, but there had been always respect between them and there was no doubt that Chilton cared and he showed honest worry. When Hannibal turned to return the look of the other man, he nodded and reassured Chilton again with this gesture that this decision was the only one he was able to make.

Hannibal entered the operating room.

Will was on the table, attached to tubes and Franklyn having already started the anesthetics that would provide a stable environment for his husband. Hannibal stepped closer and accepted the scalpel that Freddie offered him to make the first incision, Jimmy cleaning the wound.

His heart was beating loudly in his ears, everything feeling unreal and distant.

He cut into Will's skin, into his flesh.

It felt like three years ago, when he had put a scalpel to his husband’s body as well, in a decision that ruined the life they had shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love both Richard Armitage and Raúl Esparza too much to ever make them bad people in my AUs, deal with it.


	14. Chapter 14

_3 years ago_

_Will was rushing out of the teacher’s lounge, his leather bag, Hannibal’s present for his last birthday after his last and cheap bag finally passed away and his husband had insisted to get him something that would last, over his shoulder._

_“Have a great weekend!” Beverly yelled behind him giggling at him being in a hurry after he had forgotten the time and had been lost in talking to Francis and Beverly about the school’s summer party that the three of them had been tasked with arranging._

_He waved over his shoulder back at them and continued to run down the hallway where running was usually forbidden and then down the front stairs that lead towards the parking space where he had parked his Volvo, fishing in the pocket of his tweed jacket for his keys and pulling out the chain with the silver H._

_The pretty blonde teenager he had already expected to see there was already waiting for him, leaning with a bored expression against the car, one arm around her body and holding her phone in her other hand, her eyes on the screen._

_“I’m so sorry,” he panted with a smile when he finally arrived, but she only shortly looked up to him, who was unlocking the car doors. “Let’s go, we got a lot to do before your dad comes home from the hospital. He’s planned to have a short dinner and then ”_

_“Whatever,” she said in a bored tone and got into the car next to him, not gracing him with a look and instead still looking at her phone._

_Will started his car and pulled onto the quiet street the school was located on, becoming part with the afternoon traffic. When she did not talk to him for the next minutes, he turned the radio on which at least got an unpleased huff from her at his choice of music, which made him smirk. He tapped the rhythm on the steering wheel and hummed the melody of his favorite song._

_“Do you have to do that?” Simonetta finally asked, still sounding displeased with his presence._

_He looked only shortly at her, not leaving the street out of sight, and grinned._

_“What’s up, Simmy?” He asked, noticing her eye roll at the nickname. “Did the French test with Mister Dolarhyde not go good?”_

_“Francis is an asshole,” she hissed._

_“First of all, don’t call your teachers by their first name. It’s a question of respect. And second, he is not. He’s a damn good teacher.”_

_“You don’t have any of his courses.”_

_“Well, I’m a teacher?” He laughed. “What’s your problem with Mister Dolarhyde? Did he give you a grade you don’t like?”_

_Simonetta let out a laugh that spoke of judgment._

_“The stupid fag gave me a C,” she remarked annoyed._

_“What did you just call him?” Will asked, surprised at the names she was calling her teacher._

_“He’s a fucking gimp and he’s a fag,” she repeated and made it even worse, the voice arrogant._

_Will raised a brow in surprise and shock._

_“You do realize that I’m married to your dad?” He asked. “I’m pretty sure that I’m gay myself which would make me a fag as well, and your dad is, as you surely noticed, bi. Besides, if you ever call anyone, teacher, student, or just a stranger on the street, again a gimp, there will be consequences.”_

_Simonetta laughed and pulled her long hair behind an ear._

_“They probably had to fill in some sort of gimp quota,” she meant. “Nobody would hire someone as disgusting as Francis without being forced to.”_

_“Mister Dolarhyde is not disgusting, he’s actually a good friend, and having a cleft lip does hardly make him anything close to disgusting,” Will said, starting to get upset with his step-daughter's opinion. “And I don’t like you talking like that. Where does that come from anyway? I thought you liked his course, French has always been your favorite.”_

_She did not answer._

_Instead, she was staring out of the window and was watching the traffic outside, lips in a pout._

_“Are you looking forward to the weekend?” Will asked a few minutes later._

_“Don’t know what there is to look forward to,” she gave back. “I could go to a concert with my girls, and instead I have to spend time with family.”_

_She said the last word like it was the worst thing in the world and Will frowned._

_“Uncle Robert and the others are really looking forward to seeing you, Simmy,” he said. “All of us. Family is…”_

_“You’re not my family,” she snapped._

_Will blinked and almost hit the brakes._

_It had started to rain and the streets were already shining with wetness and the traffic slowed down remarkably._

_“What do you mean?” Will said, confused._

_“You’re just the whore my dad fucks,” she snarled._

_Again, Will blinked._

_“Wow,” he said. “Your dad and I are married, for several years already. I don’t think that makes me a whore.”_

_She laughed with a cruel tone in the sound._

_“A fucking homewrecker, that’s what you are. If you had not seduced him with your…your gay sickness…he would be still married to my mom.”_

_Will raised again a brow._

_“Your parents were already divorced when your dad and I met for the first time. You know that.”_

_“Lies!” She yelled. “Mom said…”_

_“Of course,” Will sighed, understanding now where this was coming from, aware of the jealousy of Hannibal’s ex-wife who he had divorced years before he met Will because he had realized that living in a heterosexual relationship did not make him happy anymore. From their first meeting on, the former Mrs. Lecter had made very clear that she thought that he was beneath him, not coming from a good family, not rich, just a teacher, and of course gay, which made the woman snarl in disgust. She had even tried to report him to the school council for his perversion as she called it, but Jack had almost laughed her homophobic claims off. “Of course Clarice said that it’s my fault. Don’t you see that she is just not able to accept that your dad is happy with me? She jealous and sorry, but she’s being a bitch. I’m sorry that her marriage with Bill went downhill, but that does not give her the right to…”_

_A hand slapped his face and his head snapped to the left._

_“What…?” He asked, turning to look at her, the moment her hand hit him again, and then again, and then again._

_He saw she was crying and her face was an angry mask._

_“It’s all your fault!” She yelled at him. “You destroyed my family. You’re the reason my dad doesn’t love me anymore. It’s always Will, Will, Will.”_

_Will’s right hand left the steering wheel and he raised it to defend himself against the next hit of her hands, his glasses had already slipped from his nose, and he pushed them back up to the bridge of his nose._

_“Of course he loves you!” He said back, his voice getting louder now too. “Stop it, Simonetta!”_

_“You fucking fags are disgusting!” She yelled, her voice tipping over and angry with tears, her maroon eyes, so similar to Hannibal’s soft and often a little calculating eyes, cruel and upset. “I hate you! I hate you! I wish you were dead!”_

_“Simonetta!” Will yelled back. “Stop it!”_

_She hit him again, and this time her fist hit his temple and his head again moved to the side, hitting the window with his left temple. He had to blink a few times, the eyes unfocused and his head feeling dizzy. Will raised his right and pushed her back into her seat, turning to look at her. Her face was wet with tears and her eyes somewhere between anger and desperation. Will saw that she was fighting with her emotions, all helpless teenager who felt neglected and ignored and misunderstood, something he had to deal with every single day in his profession._

_“We will talk about it later when your dad has come home too,” he tried to say as calm as possible._

_Suddenly, Simonetta yelled, but this time not in anger but in fear._

_Her eyes were wide and stared ahead onto the street._

_“Will!”_

_He turned to look ahead as well and gasped, his foot hitting the brakes abruptly, both hands cramping around the steering wheel and the last thing he saw before everything went dark, were the lights of a truck._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Get him to intensive care,” Hannibal said and pulled down his mask the face covered in sweat. “I want to be updated if there is any change.”

The other members of his team took down their masks as well, while two of the orderlies moved the bed on which Will’s unconscious body was laying, and none of them had any doubt that Hannibal would go to sit at Will’s bed as soon as he was able to, and nobody would remark on that.

Even Freddie, usually equipped with a sharp tongue and quick wit, smile only shortly at the surgeon and then went to get out of the bloody scrubs, followed by the other two nurses, while Chilton stayed behind in the operation room at Hannibal’s side.

“He has a good chance,” Chilton said, clapping twice onto Hannibal’s left arm. “Good job.”

Hannibal nodded and closed his eyes for a moment and then looked down at his hands, still in gloves and covered with his husband’s blood.

“I know,” he whispered and then turned, but in the door, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder at Chilton. “Thank you, Frederic.”

Chilton nodded.

“Always,” he only replied.

Hannibal went to the antechamber of the operating room and took off the gloves and threw them together with the mask into the toxic waste chute, and turned the hot water on, washing his hands thoroughly and then also washed his face, knowing that some of Will’s blood had ended up there as well when he had once wiped his own forehead with the back of his sleeve instead of waiting for Franklyn to take care of that. Looking up at the mirror, he saw a tired man with eyes that were shining with unshed tears. He could not allow himself to break down now; he could not break down and leave Will behind like this when he needed him the most.

He needed to check in in his office and then he would be able to return to Will’s side. No matter the separation, the divorce, this was where he belonged.

An hour later, he was sitting at Will’s bed, automatically holding the other man’s hand that still felt cold to his skin.

“Mielasis,” he whispered. “Fight, please fight.”

He still did not dare to cry, not willing to show how worried he indeed was.

“Doctor Lecter?”

He looked up and was faced with a teenage girl that brought back many memories and that he had not seen for almost three years.

“Abigail?”

He got up when he saw how distressed the girl looked.

“There are more people waiting outside,” Abigail said, wringing her hands nervously. “I just wanted to…I…it was my dad.”

She sobbed and Hannibal reached her the moment that she threatened to break down crying and took her into his arms.

“It was my dad,” she whispered into his shoulder. “We reported him because he is going crazy, and

I think he killed my mom, Mister Graham he…he said he would help me…I didn’t know where else to go and what to do. You two said…”

“I know, Abigail. We said we would always be there for you, and I’m sure that Will meant it as seriously as I did,” he whispered into her hair. “This is not your fault.”

“But it is,” she said, distancing herself from him. “It is my fault. If I had not gone and told him…”

Hannibal shook his head and wiped a tear off her pretty face.

“Do not think that, Abigail. Do not torture you with something you are not to blame for.”

She sniffed and then nodded.

“Will you watch him for a moment? I’m going to get you a glass of water.”

Again, she sniffed and then sat down next to the bed, looking at the pale man lying there.

Stepping outside the room into the hallway, he was met with three worried faces he knew well.

“Hannibal,” Alana said, getting up from her seat as soon as she saw him.

With two steps she was close and gave him a hug that he only reluctantly met.

“He is in a critical condition,” Hannibal said without waiting for the question that all three, Alana, her wife Margot and Francis, were ready to ask. “He had major injuries in his liver and one kidney which we had to remove. The other kidney is stable, so that should not result in any future problems for him. What worries me is the blood loss and the hypothermia. For now he is stable, but we will have to wait at least until tomorrow until we can be certain.”

He saw Margot being speechless, while Alana nodded in understanding. Francis though only stared at him.

“We can take the truth,” Francis then said, his speech his usual mumble that always had been stronger when he was upset.

“That was the truth,” Hannibal said. “He is stable but he is not out of the woods yet. I am not going to make promises. For now, we can only hope and if you believe in a higher power, you can pray.

He is in intensive care for now but we will move him to a regular room as soon as his state allows it.”

He hesitated a moment and then put a hand to Francis’ arm, understanding that the two of them were fighting very similar feelings.

“I wish I could tell you that he is going to live. I wish nothing more, Francis,” he said, the voice thin. “If you excuse me, I have to…”

He did not end the sentence and instead turned to leave before he let more of the turmoil show that he struggled with.

At the door, Alana stopped him, having run after him.

“Hannibal,” she said. “How are you holding up?”

He looked at the woman he had called a friend for years, and who he missed in his life like he missed everything of the life he had shared with Will.

“I’m doing what my profession expects of me,” he replied.

“I’m not talking to the surgeon, Hannibal,” Alana said. “I’m talking to my friend who's husband has just undergone major surgery.”

“Ex-husband,” Hannibal corrected her.

“Will has not told you?”

Hannibal looked at her in surprise, the head tilted in the way that always indicated that he was curious and did not understand what the other one was saying.

“What are you talking about?”

“He has not filed the divorce papers yet, Hannibal,” Alana said. “You are still married.”

Hannibal held his breath, not daring to hope what his friend’s words were implying.


	15. Chapter 15

Hannibal returned to Will’s room only a few minutes later, after having gotten a glass of water for Abigail, but instead of the young girl, he found Francis sitting next to Will’s bed, holding his hand like Hannibal had done just a moment ago.

Francis looked up when he entered, and let go of Will’s hand and started to get up, but Hannibal made a gesture for him to remain seated.

“No, you can stay. He would appreciate the company,” Hannibal said. “Where is Abigail?”

“Someone from CPS told her she has to go with her, they seem to have found her father.”

Hannibal nodded and pulled a second chair closer and sat down, putting the glass on Will’s nightstand.

For a while, the two men sat in silence with Will, the only sound filling the room the beeping of the machines that were attached to Will, until Hannibal turned his gaze from Will to Francis, seeing that the other man looked as tired and sad as he felt.

“Alana said…,” Hannibal started, but did not know how to finish the sentence that made Francis look up.

“What did she say?” He asked, his speech impairment strong, which made himself wince slightly, not that it ever had bothered Hannibal.

“It’s not important,” Hannibal said, looking back at his hands, where he had started to wear his wedding ring again just a day after he had taken it off, feeling naked and incomplete without it.

“What did Alana say that you want to talk about?” Francis asked furthermore, still holding Will’s hand.

“She said…,” Hannibal started. “She said that Will did not file the divorce yet?”

Francis sighed and then nodded.

“He did not,” he replied.

“But why?”

Francis looked right at Hannibal holding eye contact.

“You are an idiot, you know that?”

Hannibal frowned.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s the truth,” the shy teacher replied. “You have this man, and I think we both know how wonderful he is, and you push him away.” He looked at Will, stroking his hand with two of his fingers. “But even pushed away, he never stopped loving you.”

Hannibal leaned back in his chair, looking for an explanation in Francis’ face, but saw still only the worry for Will’s life.

“He broke up with me,” Francis said, looking at Will and to Hannibal’s surprise he was smiling.

“Before he moved out of your place actually.” Hannibal looked at him in surprise and Francis returned his look with a knowing smile. “He still loves you, Hannibal. Even when you didn’t want him anymore and I did, he chose you. He’d always chosen you even after you ripped his heart out.”

“I didn’t know.”

“No, because you were too busy to mourn, Hannibal,” Francis said, the voice not much more than a whisper. He leaned forward and looked right into Hannibal’s eyes, steel blue meeting maroon.

“He needed you, just like you needed him. He only was with me because he could not face the darkness in his mind longer on his own, I’m aware of that. I won’t lie and say I didn’t hope for more, but I am not angry that he made a choice not in my favor.” His fingers stroked Will’s hand.

“If he makes it, don’t ever let him go again.”

Hannibal nodded and took Will’s other hand into his.

“I won’t.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The two men had taken shifts sitting at Will’s bed, and when Francis told Hannibal to go home and get at least a few hours of sleep, he had only reluctantly agreed. On his way home, he had stopped at Alana’s and Margot’s place and had, to their and his own surprise picked up Winston, who whined only once when he saw the seemingly cold man and then followed him with a happy wag of his tail into the large car and back to the large house in which he had spent the first weeks after the other man had taken him in.

Hannibal did not know much about having a dog, even though his family always owned dogs of several breeds, and so he first just put a bowl of water up for the dog and then took his phone out and looked up recipes for homemade dog food and cooked Winston something to eat. Of course, going to the supermarket would have been easier and maybe even quicker, but cooking distracted him and had always brought him relaxation, besides what he cooked with selected ingredients would most probably be much healthier for the mutt than something canned.

Winston at least seemed to enjoy the food in his bowls, and then insisted on joining Hannibal in bed. He first considered chasing Winston out of his room, but then the dog put his head on Hannibal’s thigh and looked at him from his large dark eyes as if he understood the pain Hannibal was in. And so he started to stroke the dog’s head until he had fallen into a light and dreamless sleep.

When he woke up, only three hours had passed but there was no thought wasted on getting back to sleep and so Hannibal took a long shower and made himself something eat before he let Winston out in the backyard and decided to let him in there, safely fenced in with a shed in case it started to rain again and a selection of food on the terrace.

He let Reba know that he would come in later after having checked on Will, but nothing had changed there, Margot having taking over watching him from Francis and then he went on his ward round and checked on his patients, regularly checking his pager to see if he had missed a call.

Hours had passed until he returned to the intensive care ward and checked in on Will himself again and found once again Francis sitting there in fresh clothes but not shaved and looking tired.

“No change?” Hannibal asked and took the medical file from the bed and had a look at it.

“Not that I could tell,” Francis said. “He moved a little a few minutes ago like he is trying to wake up but can’t.”

Hannibal nodded.

“That’s a good sign,” he said. “His vitals are stable.”

Francis looked up.

“Does that mean he’s going to make it?”

“There is always a remaining risk, but I’d say his chances are good.”

The door opened and Chilton looked inside the room.

“Hannibal, we need you in the conference room,” Chilton said and then looked at Francis, who straightened his back. “And hello there.”

Francis looked at the other doctor and showed the hint of a smile, while Chilton’s dark eyes somewhat lit up.

“Uhm…conference room,” Chilton reminded himself, still his eyes on Francis. “It’s about Dimmond.”

Hannibal nodded and gave another nod into Francis’ direction and followed his boss outside.

“What has Dimmond done now?” He asked there.

“He showed up absolutely drunk and most probably also under the influence of something else to surgery,” Chilton said. “I’m suspending him and we are seeing in the chances of firing him on the spot.” They walked towards the elevator. “Who was that?”

Hannibal looked at Chilton and could not help but smile when they stepped together into the elevator.

Chances to fire Dimmond were not as good as they had hoped it would be, but the suspension had been put into place immediately and the arrogant and spoiled surgeon was escorted off the hospital grounds by security. Bedelia was out of her mind with upset about either how her protégé behaved, or maybe just because she was ashamed that she had brought him into the hospital and had given her recommendations for him.

For Hannibal, this short meeting was wasted time, and afterward he had been called to perform emergency surgery on a young boy who had a ruptured appendix and had an already high fever when his parents finally had decided to bring him into the hospital. Despite the bad state the boy was in, the surgery was a success and he was able to tell the parents afterward that their boy would make it but that they should pay better attention to their child’s health because this had been on razor’s edge.

The moment he said his goodbyes to the couple, his pager went off and told him that Will had regained consciousness. A feeling between anxiety and happiness flooded his system and he turned to return to the intensive care ward, where he met Sutcliffe on the hallway who only gave him a short nod.

“The police has already talked to him. He’s doing remarkably good considering the extent of his wounds. You can go in.”

Hannibal nodded and went towards the door, where he hesitated for a moment, then he shortly knocked and went in.

Will was, as had been expected, laying still on his bed, the chest bare and the torso covered in fresh bandages. He was staring at the ceiling and looked pale, yet not as tired as Hannibal had expected him to be.

When he heard someone come in, he turned his head and he seemed to need a moment until he recognized the doctor in the white coat who had just stepped into the room.

“Hannibal,” he whispered then, his voice hoarse.

Hannibal took the coat off and pulled a chair closer to sit with him.

“What are you doing here?” Will asked. “I mean…I know you work here, but Donald has already told me about what he had to do to save my life. I need to make a mental note to send him a gift basket for Christmas,” he chuckled.

“A gift basket? Why would you do that?”

Will looked at his husband.

“Because he saved my life? I think that’s a pretty good reason.”

“He did not do the surgery on you,” Hannibal said. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything? I can give Francis or Alana a call for them to get you something you want.”

“I assumed Winston is with Alana,” Will said. “And what did you mean with Donald did not do surgery on me? He just was here and talked to me about it all.”

“Winston is back home,” Hannibal said. “And he only did that because your surgeon was in an appendectomy.”

Will blinked a few times at him.

“Can we stop beating around the bush? My head hurts already as it is;” Will said, frowning.

“Where is Winston and who did surgery on me?”

“Winston is at home, in the backyard chasing squirrels, and I was the surgeon operating on you.”

Will stared at him.

“I’m not sure what I am more shocked about. That you allow my dog into your house, or that you did surgery on me.”

“Why would I not do surgery on you? I’m the best trauma surgeon around here.”

Will nodded.

“Not sure I can afford a gift basket you would like though.”

“I don’t want a gift basket, I just want you to get back on your feet.”

Will huffed.

“As if you care.”

“I care,” Hannibal said. “I always cared.”

Will’s eyes shifted around the room before he looked at Hannibal again.

“I’d like you to leave.”

“Will…”

“Go, Hannibal,” Will demanded, the voice even though weak, leaving no doubt that he was serious.

Hannibal chewed for a moment on his bottom lip and felt tears in his eyes.

“Stop pushing me away, Will,” he said. “I know you are trying to protect yourself, but we both know it’s not working. You love me.”

“I…? You shit,” Will said, trying to laugh what Hannibal said away. “You arrogant, self-righteous shit. What makes you think that?”

“You broke up with Francis, and you did not file the divorce papers.”

“I was busy. And just because I realized I won’t have a future with Francis does not mean I still love you.”

“You are still wearing your wedding ring.”

Will looked at his bare left hand.

“Obviously I’m not.”

Hannibal put his hand into a pocket and pulled the ring out that he had taken from Will’s hand before he performed the surgery. Will looked at Hannibal’s hand.

“You can throw it away. I don’t need it anymore.”

“Will, please.”

Will raised a heavy hand.

“Go, Hannibal. Just go and leave and never return. That’s what you wanted for the past three years since I killed Simonetta.”

Hannibal stared at him.

“What did you just say?”

“I fucking killed your daughter!” Will yelled, the voice breaking in a sob. “I drove the car into a truck and she died. She fucking died and I lived and I know you can never forgive me. I killed her. I killed her. I killed…”

“You did not,” Hannibal said, leaning forward and putting his arms on his knees, the eyes closed.

“You didn’t kill her. I did.”

Will blinked tears away, the head turned so he could look at his husband, who was trying to hold back tears.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered.

“I never blamed you, Will,” Hannibal whispered. “It’s me I can’t live with anymore. I killed

Simonetta, I hold responsibility for her death.”

A heavy silence hang between them, filled with the sounds of the machines that Will was still attached to and both the men’s breathing.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Hannibal.”

Hannibal took a deep breath and Will thought he looked so much more like the vulnerable and emotional husband and not like the clinical and reserved surgeon whose mask he often wore.

“The day of the accident, I was on duty,” he said, the voice thin and not daring to look up.

“I know that. We wanted to get ready to visit family, and you were finishing a shift.”

Hannibal nodded.

“When you and Simonetta were brought in, I was on duty. I was called into the ER where both of you had just arrived,” he said. “The nurse who called in the surgeons did not know who you were.

They had taken your and Simonetta’s vitals, and…” He swallowed tears and looked at the ceiling.

“I made a decision.”

Will frowned.

“A decision?”

“Simonetta was conscious. She had pain in her chest and abdomen and several deep cuts. You were out and the wounds you had…it didn’t look good, Will. The paramedics had stabilized you but it was already clearly visible that most of your torso was crushed. You know the wounds the accident had cause for you.”

Will nodded and remembered the weeks he had to stay in the hospital during recovery.

“I checked only shortly on Simonetta. She seemed stable and was awake but in pain, she told me that she hit you and that you defended yourself and crashed the car into a truck while doing so. I know you did not cause any of that but she did. She told me...,” Hannibal’s eyes were drowning in tears. “She told me she was sorry and that she loved you. The last thing she said was I love you two, go and save him, daddy.” Hannibal looked at Will. “And I did.”

Will shook his head.

“You…?”

“I did the surgery on you back then as well, Will. I didn’t leave the operation room for seven hours while trying to save your life. You flatlined twice and I did everything in my power to stop the bleeding and fix the damage,” he said, the voice a whisper. “Because I couldn’t lose you. I couldn’t lose the man I love. But when I left the operation room, certain that you had a good chance, that life would be good again, Chilton awaited me with the news that Simonetta had died on the operation table. She bled out under their hands,” Hannibal was now openly crying. “My daughter died because I made the decision to do surgery on you instead of her.”

“Hannibal,” Will whispered. “You shouldn’t have done surgery on either of us, being related. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t forgive myself, Will,” Hannibal said. “I never blamed you. I never blamed you a single moment, we both knew that Simonetta was complicated and that Clarice put a spark of hate for us in her that we may have never been able to fix, but I never blamed you. I never…”

His voice broke and Will wished he would be able to get up and take him into his arms.

“Why have you never told me?” He asked, pain in his voice. “You made me believe that you blame me for her death, Hannibal.”

Hannibal nodded, the guilt for his doing heavy on his soul, knowing how much he had hurt the man he loved with neglecting everything they both had needed.

“I never intended to,” he said. “I still can’t look at myself and justify what I have done.”

Will tried to reach out with a hand that Hannibal took into his, holding it tight.

“I never realized that you think I blame you to be honest,” Hannibal then said, looking up at Will, seeing that his husband was crying as well. “I somehow thought that you were blaming yourself like I was blaming me, I tried to talk to you in the beginning and you pushed me away, and I never tried again, it’s still hard to talk about this pain, this emptiness she left behind, and when I was ready you had already found Francis.”

Will’s smile was helpless.

“I never loved him like I love you,” he said. “I just wanted…I don’t even know. I maybe just didn’t want to be alone anymore, Hannibal. Did it really take Abigail’s dad to stab me to make us finally talk?”

The smile on Hannibal’s face was as helpless as his own.

“I can’t lose you, Will. I know I can live without you, but I don’t want to.”

Will nodded.

“I thought life would be better without you, that I don’t need you but I do. We need a ton of therapy,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I hate being analyzed.”

His husband nodded.

“Can I get my ring back?”

The older man looked at him with surprise and curiosity.

“You mean…”

“If you listened closely, you noticed that we both just said we still love each other. I’m ready to try, Hannibal. I cannot make promises, neither can you. But I want to try. I love you,” he said.

“And now give me back my fucking ring.”

“Rude.”

Will huffed.

“Ring,” he demanded.

Hannibal took Will’s left hand and slipped the gold band, the twin to the one he was wearing, over his finger, holding his hand still in his before he leaned over to Will, who tilted his head a little to accept a soft and still intimate kiss.

“To new beginnings,” Will said. “I can’t believe you picked Winston up.”

Hannibal chuckled against his lips at the thought of telling Will that Winston had slept in his bed, where soon – soon! – Will would reclaim his place.

Finally, everything started to feel right again.


	16. Chapter 16

1 year later

“Abby, are you ready to go?” Will asked, turning around the corner to the classroom and smiled at the group of young women standing there.

Abigail looked up from the book she held in her hands and closed it.

“Yes, I’m ready,” she said. “See you guys on Monday.”

She waved at her friends and joined Will, walking next to him, on their way out of the school building. After all that happened a year ago, she had decided to repeat this last year before she would decide on a college, and right now her plan was to stay in Baltimore when the school year was over and become a teacher like Will was and visit the local college for that path. She already had taken over the duty of watching the younger children attending the private school during recess or assist Will in a few classes when he was tending to the lower grades.

“Plans for the weekend?” Will asked when they reached the trustworthy silver Volvo on the parking lot and when opened, Abigail put her bag on the backseat next to Will’s leather bag.

“Oh, I thought some family time?” She laughed while fastening her seat belt. “There are those guys I’m living with, I hear they make a mean barbeque.”

Will laughed and pulled the car out into the traffic, joining the Friday evening traffic for their way home.

“How was the French test?” He asked and was somehow reminded on the last time he had sat with

Simonetta in the car, on a Friday afternoon like this, asking her about a French test, but he shook his head slightly to get rid of the sudden thoughts and memories.

“I got a B,” she said, huffing a little. “I wrote the whole essay in the wrong tense, can you believe that? I’m lucky Mister Dolarhyde still got me a B, I deserved a D for that bullshit.”

“I doubt you did it on purpose? Probably a blackout?”

She nodded and puller her hair behind an ear.

“I think so. I didn’t even notice until I held the test in my hands,” she smiled. “He’s the best teacher

I ever had.”

“Hey!” Will laughed. “What about the guy who taught you history until last year?”

“Yeah,” she said with a grin and a wink. “That one was not bad either. Easy on the eyes too.”

Will chuckled.

“But Mister Dolarhyde is really damn hot,” Abby added.

“And taken,” he remarked.

“As are you,” she grinned. “Are Mister Dolarhyde and Doctor Chilton coming to the barbeque as well?”

Will nodded and turned into the street that would lead to the house they were living in.

“They at least said so,” he said. “Francis is bringing his famous watermelon salad. It’s to die for, even Hannibal is jealous of that recipe.”

“I can’t imagine Hannibal being jealous of anything when it comes to food. I gained like fifteen pounds since I moved in.”

“Suits you though,” Will said and pulled into the driveway, next to the silver-gray Bentley. “You were way too thin before.”

“True,” she agreed. “I’m really looking forward to the barbeque tomorrow. It’s going to be fun.”

Will got out of the car and got his bag from the back which Abby did as well, following him up the front steps.

“Lots of stuff to do still. And you have not yet had the pleasure of witnessing General Lecter in action, it’s no fun at all. The Christmas dinner will be nothing against this,” he said while entering the house and put his keys into the bowl on the sideboard.

“I heard that!” Came a voice from another room.

“Good!” Will yelled back and winked at Abby, who went up the stairs.

“I’ll be back down in a few, need to visit the bathroom first,” she said and ran upstairs, while Will walked into the back of the house, shrugging off his jacket and putting it on a chair when he entered the spacious kitchen, where Hannibal was cutting something that looked like something he was not sure he wanted to eat.

With a smile, he went to his husband and pressed a kiss on his cheek, a smile that Hannibal returned without looking up until he was done with cutting. He washed his hands, put the knife away, and then turned towards Will and pulled him close, smiling into the kiss they shared.

“Missed you,” he said. “Good evening, Mielasis.”

“Good evening,” Will said and returned the kiss. “What are you making, that smells like something died on the table.”

“Then you should be happy you’re not a dog,” Hannibal smiled. “It’s rumen for the dog food I’m making.”

Will rolled his eyes and went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice, almost tripping over the beige poodle that was weaseling between Hannibal’s legs, hoping for something to drop down for her. Will knew Hannibal too good and so it was no surprise when Hannibal pulled a dog cookie from a pocket of his pants and gave it to her.

“Good girl, Ellie,” he said and patted her head before she happily trotted away, looking like she was smiling happily.

“You’re so gone on her,” Will remarked and handed Hannibal a glass of orange juice as well.

“What do you say? I’m in the mood for breakfast for dinner?”

Hannibal nodded.

“I have just gotten fresh bacon today when I picked up the meat for tomorrow from the butcher, I think Abigail would like that too.”

“What would I like?” The girl asked when she came into the kitchen, a white shepherd mix with a brown ear on her heals who got a treat from Hannibal as well and munched the cookie with glee.

“Breakfast for dinner,” Will replied and sat down on one of the stools, watching how Abby went over to Hannibal and greeted him with a short kiss to his cheek.

“Oh yes,” she said. “Can we?”

“I don’t see why not,” Hannibal said. “Was the French test returned?”

Abby stole Will’s glass and drank some fresh juice.

“I got a B,” she said.

“That’s good,” Hannibal said.

“What is that?” Abby asked, pointing towards the working space.

“Dog food,” Will asked instead of Hannibal.

“Oh, thank God,” Abby laughed. “I was worried for a moment. With all the weird shit I’ve eaten in the past year I thought…”

She shut up when he saw the expression on Hannibal’s face.

“What? Do I have to remind you of eating whole birds with bones and stuff and all?”

“Ortolan,” Will said to Hannibal’s surprise. “Those were delicious.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t good. I said it was weird,” she grinned.

“That it was,” Will meant.

“Ignorant barbarians,” Hannibal huffed and put the cut rumen into a pot with boiling water.

Will and Abigail exchanged a look before Will got up and went to press another kiss to the corner of Hannibal’s lips.

“I’m checking on the boys,” he said and used the gallery doors at the back of the kitchen to go outside on the terrace, where he made a snarling sound and the pack of dogs they owned came running to get their cuddles and pats.

Winston waited behind the others until they decided to have enough of the human and went to play in the garden again, and only approached Will when he said down on one of the wooden deck chairs, always patient and gentle and aware that he was the leader of the pack and would always have that special place in his humans’ life. He leaned against Will’s legs and closed the eyes in bliss when Will paid extensive attention to him.

He would have never thought that Hannibal would allow dogs in their home.

After Abigail’s father had been put into jail for the abuse of his daughter and the attack on Will, the police had found Abigail’s mother buried in the backyard of their home, murdered by Garrett

Hobbs as well. Abby who was still a minor should have been put into the system, but it had been not much of a discussion that Hannibal and Will offered to take her in for the few months until she turned eighteen, welcoming her into the family they started to be again. Having her in the house felt good, but they also were happy about the times she stayed with her friends and they had some time on their own.

The psychiatrist Abby had started to see had suggested to get her a support animal and only reluctantly Hannibal had agreed to get her a dog, also to have company for Winston as he said.

Back in the shelter they visited, Abby had fallen immediately in love with the shepherd mix Jack who followed her like a shadow wherever she went, sensing that she needed his proximity to stay calm and feel safe.

What Will though had not expected was that Hannibal suddenly was distracted by another dog in the shelter while Abby and he were talking to the caretaker about Jack, and had gone to get a closer look at the elder poodle who sat nervously shaking in a corner while a yipping and angry looking smaller dog with an aggressive-looking underbite was defending her honor. Hannibal had asked who those dogs were and had been informed that Ellie and Zoe were going to be put down, Ellie to asocial and scared of everything, and Zoe too aggressive to ever find a home again. It had taken an hour back at home until Will had asked Hannibal, who was suddenly fidgeting and not able to rest if he wanted to return to the shelter. That night, they had returned and gotten the pair of small dogs who were scared for the first days and Zoe even tried to bite Hannibal and Will at a few occasions, but they remained patient and now Ellie was without any doubt Hannibal’s dog and Zoe had calmed down and tried now only to playfully bite Chilton when he came to visit. A few weeks later the shelter had called Hannibal, informing him about an emergency, a dog that should be put down at his owner’s request because he was a danger to their children and when Will returned that evening from work, he met Harley, the most gentle giant of a dog he had ever met.

Who would have thought that Hannibal turned out to be an even bigger dog person than Will was who cuddled with the dogs and made them homemade meals?

He smiled at the thought and looked up when Hannibal pulled a chair close to his and sat down with him.

They joined their hands without a word, looking deep into each other’s eyes, smiling softly.

“I love you,” Hannibal said.

Will beamed.

“I love you too.”

Hannibal nodded and pulled Will’s hand up to kiss his knuckles.

“Will you marry me, William Lecter?”

Will chuckled.

“Not sure if that is old age already taking over, but we are married,” he laughed.

Hannibal smiled into the kiss he pressed again to Will’s skin.

“I know that,” he said. “Marry me again.”

Will looked at his husband.

At the love of his life.

And then he told him the only answer possible.

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/RisingPhnx1


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